#time warp mansion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justbelievinginmagic · 3 days ago

Text

im(mortal) - part 1: blood moon.

pairing(s): vampire!enhypen ot7 x fem!reader, series summary: Seven souls struggle with the bitter dregs of eternal life. As they hide amongst human society, they try to discover a cure for their curse, decade after decade, century into century. In their investigations, they find more than they could imagine brewing including a strange magnetic pull towards a human woman. Will they be able to find their humanity once more or will their world crumble beneath the weight of immortality? glimpse: A century-old mansion stood in the middle of nowhere engulfed by an inferno of fire. Seven figures stand in front of it; each with sharpened bittersweet smiles on their mouths as they remember how it all started so so long ago. warnings/tags: Inspired by Enhypen's MVs lore & Enhypen's Dark Moon album (but not really its lore), Vampire AU, sort of Soulmate AU, College AU, heavy science fiction inspiration, ot7 x reader but not poly ot7 (but some are really close tbh), 3rd person POV, use of YN, mature topics, angst, human experimentation, medicine (pills/shots), death, injuries, biting, medical imagery, implied abuse, canonical violence & trauma, vampire lore, blood, Ni-ki as Riki, vomiting, illnesses, fire, arson, no mention of YN this chapter as a heads up! let me know if more tags need to be added! word count: 7.3k -> next chapter series masterlist

Seven different wooden chairs were the only furniture that remained in the large solarium. The wall paper had peeled over the years, revealing different variations of ugly, always baby-blue print. The most recent, which was faded beyond belief, was a lattice print; the one under it was a honeycomb pattern; beneath that was a plain baby blue wallpaper. Chipping. Fading.

There were more echoes of the past. Dark mold clung around ghostly shapes of posters, strangely shaped equipment, and long-gone furniture - the shape of a piano was in one corner and the outline of a fine-china cabinet was in another. The linoleum floor was cracked and warped revealing wooden panels beneath. The room smelt of mildew, and there was the faint sound of dripping water from somewhere.

Sunghoon sat down on his chair, the aged wood creaking under his weight. It was strange. Looking down the row of chairs, he could see ghosts of themselves. Jungwon with his wide dark brown eyes. Sunoo clinging to his stuffed bear that he loved so much. Riki’s feet dangling off his chair, too short for his feet to touch the floor yet. He could smell the disinfectant in the air. It always smelt like bleach and chemicals in the solarium despite the large windows lining the walls. They never were opened, white curtains drawn shut. Even now they remained, yellowed with age and soggy with mold.

He had spent so much time here. They all had but he could walk this room with his eyes shut and he wouldn’t have bumped into one piece of furniture or step on one creaking piece of plank of wood in the flooring.

He let out a sigh; his eyes shutting as he tried to calm his racing heart. This was the exact reason they had to return to the mansion. They needed to. Too many memories, too many connections, too many emotions. Sunghoon hoped Jay was alright.

“I found him,” a voice called out, the tone gentle and melodic as usual.

Sunghoon’s lips upturned as he turned away from the past to look at Sunoo. With his bleach blonde hair peeking out from beneath a beanie, his leathered jacket, and tattered jeans, it was easy to be reminded of reality. Sunoo was not a little boy with dark black hair clinging to a stuffed animal anymore. He hadn’t been for a long time.

The linoleum squeaked beneath Sunoo’s shoes as he walked into the large room.

“Wow,” he breathed softly. “I thought seeing the rooms were weird.”

He sighed out, the sound mimicking the breath Sunghoon had heaved moments earlier.

“It’s weird for sure,” Sunghoon said, rising to his feet after a long stretch with his head tilting back as far as it could before straightening and standing.

There was a rustling like a wind brushing through the room. And with it, the world melted away, glowing faintly, just enough to paint the room in a nostalgic light. The wallpaper was honeycombed pale blue; the ceiling fan overhead spun slowly; the room was casted with natural and gas light. A table sat in the center, circular and covered in a white sheet. 7 dining spots were set, a plate, a fork, and a papered cup, each. Each of their chairs were in their spot – polished wood gleaming in the light.

The sound of piano playing a familiar melody that they all had once help create.

Sunoo smiled at Sunghoon. His hair looked darker now in the allusion, his face rounder. His teeth were duller.

“Sunoo,” Sunghoon pleaded, shutting his eyes. “Please don’t.”

With that, the allusion washed away like a chalk painting on a rainy day, turning grey and muddied until the aged room was all that remained. The younger frowned.

“I hate this place,” Sunghoon murmured.

“Same,” Jay’s voice chimed in.

Their heads swung around to see the other man enter the doorway. He grimaced at the sight of the blue room. Jay leaned on the door frame, his hands resting on either side of the door.

“Jungwon’s all done. You guys ready?”

Sunoo took a deep breath in, and Jay winced.

“Sunoo,” he sighed out, taking a step forward almost instinctively.

“I’m fine,” Sunoo insisted, immediately.

His smile was sweet as a spoonful of sugar, wide eyes gentle as he shifted on his feet. Twisting restlessly, his arms spun a bit as he did so, childlike. Jay raised a singular brow before turning towards Heeseung’s call from down the hall.

He didn’t believe Sunoo for a moment. But all Sunoo did was avoid the elder’s gaze, glancing aside, his gaze gravitating to the chairs this time. His chair looked so tiny now. Was it always that small?

“C’mon,” Jay gestured towards them with his head. “They’re waiting.”

With one final look, Sunghoon left the solarium, passing Jay with a steady look in his eye. Jay returned it, sympathy echoing on his face. Sunoo stood there, his hands moving to play with the straps of his backpack.

“You think I’ll feel better?” Sunoo questioned, quietly.

“We all will once we’re done,” Jay commented, leaning on the door frame. It creaked with his weight tauntingly. Jay glanced down the chairs lined up beside him. His chair was missing an arm now.

“I think it’ll help.” He admitted, not looking at the younger. “You’ve been holding onto it for so long, Sunoo.”

There was a tiny hum in the back of Sunoo’s throat. Jay could feel the emotions radiating off of him, the twisted emotions of nostalgia, hurt, pain, sorrow, and strangely euphoria. Jay didn’t understand how Sunoo could feel any happy memories here.

Sunoo shouldered his backpack off and unzipped it. Inside was a stuffed bear. Greying with age, covered in stitches and makeshift patches of fabric to keep his stuffing from tumbling out. He was damaged but well-loved. Old but cared for. Sunoo plucked the thing up. The fur wasn’t soft anymore despite its age. No amount of cuddling made it more gentle, it was always harsh against his skin. He swallowed, looking over at the bear.

Jay glanced aside.

Sunoo breathed out, a thumb brushing over a glass eye, over the worn silk of the ribbon around its neck. With another shuddering breath in, Sunoo placed the bear on his chair. He sat so nicely as if meant for it.

“It’s time,” Sunoo whispered.

“It is,” Jay agreed, watching as Sunoo picked up his now empty backpack.

With quick footsteps, Sunoo exited the solarium without another look. Jay glanced around it once last time before shutting the door behind them with a clank. The two men walked through the mansion, down a dusty hallway. Their feet remembered each creaky floorboard as they continued onwards.

The foyer was all wood and white peeling paint. A singular electric light hung by a chain above the group of men standing in a semi-circle. Waiting for them.

Jungwon’s face was stoney and serious, but at the sight of the others he offered a tight-lipped smile.

“All good?” he asked.

Jay nodded in reply for the group. “Yeah, just checking out the solarium.”

Sunghoon’s hands trembled he noticed then; he hid them in his jeans’ pockets.

“I’m so ready for this place to be nothing but a memory – for good,” Niki commented from his side, his voice sounding harsh as he glared at the high ceilings. The stairwell nearby casted a shadow over his face.

Heeseung said nothing but there was a tickle in the back of their heads – his agreement palpable. Sunoo was quiet as he went to Jungwon’s side. He didn’t grab his arm, but he huddled close. Jay rubbed his forehead as he nodded.

He wanted all of this to be over.

“Let’s do it then.” Jake said. His fingers began to glow, ember hot red.

Dark red eyes took in the mansion for the last time before they glanced at each other. A solemn nod from Jungwon was all they needed before they crept outside of the mansion. Jake’s hands trailed over the wall; it would be described as reverently if there wasn’t such a deep scowl on his pretty features. His lip was curled back into a grimace as flames licked from his fingertips and onto the century old wood of the mansion. A complicated look flickered over his face as he watched the fire catch, a surge of flames erupting up the white paint and traveling higher and higher until they caught onto the ceiling.

“That should do,” he heard Heeseung’s voice in his head, encouraging Jake to join the group outside the burning mansion. As he did so, Jungwon closed the front door with a heavy slam.

With a slam, the door thudded shut, piquing the interest of the two boys peering down from in between the stairwell’s posts. Two small faces pressed against the wooden balusters as they watched a man enter the mansion. White coat, spectacles, and carrying two leather bags that were heavy in his grasp. Behind him stood a trio of nurses in their pastel-mint, perfectly pressed dresses and ivory aprons and caps.

“It’s a doctor,” the elder whispered to his friend. Their eyes widened as they focused back far below them.

The doctor glanced upwards, hearing their small voice. He smiled. His footsteps echoed on the floorboards as he went towards the manager’s office.

“Is someone sick?” the other boy hugging his toy bear whispered back.

“No,” the other shook his head. “I don’t think so. . . “

“Maybe they want to adopt one of us?” the younger offered, fiddling with the bow on the bear’s neck.

“Maybe.”

There was a loud thud as the doctor and his entourage entered the manager’s office. The door’s lock sliding into place was even louder. The youngest flinched, fiddling with the silk on the bow even more, soothingly.

“Let’s go tell the others.” The elder said encouragingly, standing from his spot to rush down the upstairs hall to the bedrooms.

Not long later, the orphans stood in a line by height, much to the despair of the eldest who was still shorter than the youngers. Each one was examined. An illuminator shined into their brown eyes, into their tiny mouth. A nurse took down notes that the doctor murmured behind his medical mask.

Tapetum lucidum, negative. Tapetum lucidum, negative. Tapetum lucidum, negative.

Number 6 and 11, primary. Number 6 and 11, permanent. Loose number 11, primary.

Their blood was drawn in multiple small vials later by the nurses. Some of the youngest struggled with the blood draw, afraid of needles and blood. A nurse said with a cool smile, “You’ll get used to it.”

This wouldn’t be the first time they’d line up like this. Sometimes, it was weekly; other times, it was daily. Medical notes needed to be updated frequently was all the doctor said.

Then came the pills. They took at least one with every meal; some of them took more than others. When Jay had asked a nurse why were they taking them (they hadn’t taken any ever before!), she had reassured him it was for his well-being. Good boys take their medicine. She chirped out.

The old white-haired manager welcomed the doctor to set up an office in an unused music room, pushing the piano out into the hallway where it sat, taller than most of the boys.

Rules around the mansion began to change soon after. There would be no more adoption visits, no more potential guardians for the time being. No more new additions to the household either. The orphanage’s manager, the old woman with ashy white hair, had smiled at them around the table at dinner time. Each in their chair donated by the nearby town, mismatched like themselves.

She said this was for the best. That this was a way for them to be good boys of society.

They took their pills that waited for them in a small paper cup.

There was another change. No more outside time. No visits into town. No visitors at all. Their solarium that they had once used for potential adoptive parents to meet them turned into a sort of common room, a living room and dining hall all in one. A table for meals had been set up with a white sheet covering its surface. A collection of their toys sat in a corner with a rocking chair that was nearly falling apart. The piano had been pushed inside by the older boys; two raggedy repatched sofas were there as well to lounge about on. As they grew, a bookshelf was shoved against the wall next to the manager’s fine china cabinet (that they were to never touch or else they’d be punished.) It was where they would live, play, assemble for meals, and assemble for treatment. That was their outside now. A tiny blue wall-papered solarium with humidity fogged windows, covered in white lacy curtains.

They complained at first. These changes were horrible. They loved playing outside on the apple tree’s swing and the nearby flower fields. They wouldn’t go into town but let them play outside, please. But, when any of them tried to sneak outside, their punishments grew.

First, it had been the addition of heavy-padlocked entrances and exits that only the doctor, manager, and head nurse held the keys for. When the youngest stole the head nurse’s key when she wasn’t looking (to go play on the swing on the yard’s apple tree), they were quickly limited to only the manager. When the most-sensitive of the group crept outside a window to go pet a stray cat on the back porch, the isolation room was introduced.

It was a bare dusty thing– an old dance room that was used when there were girl orphans. Once it had become an all-boy’s orphanage, it was left abandoned, cold, and grimy. It was dark; there was only candle-based lighting in that room. Gas lighting was slowly being introduced to the cities and towns of new, and, while some of the house had the trailing, twisting wires leading to easily burnt-out light bulbs, the isolation room didn’t. Two floor-to-ceiling walls of cracking mirrors decorated opposite walls of the room with a barre screwed into one of them. Another wall was old brick, harsh and unwelcoming. It felt like an endless room if you stared long enough into the mirrors. A room where you’d be locked away until you were more well-behaved. To think about your actions. (Which were what? Leaving the house they were trapped in? They didn’t understand why things had to change.) The youngest hated the room.

He became very familiar with the room throughout the following years.

It was a slow life. They grew taller; they lost baby teeth; they celebrated birthdays. Their medicine increased and decreased; their rooms grew more familiar. The isolation room became common-place especially as some of the boys edged into teenagerhood. Soon, the doctor moved into the office. Soon, there were even more tests. More pills, even injections. Their halls reeked of antiseptic and the metallic tang of medical equipment. The manager passed away on Jay’s twelfth birthday, but nothing much changed except for the fine-china cabinet being raided and left empty – by who the boys never knew for sure.

The pills continued. The examinations continued.

Jungwon was the first to be considered a success by the doctor.

He was no older than ten when he discovered his new talent – speed. Indoor races back and forth in the solarium became easy; in fact, he kept teasing the others that he was faster, faster, faster than them all. But it wasn’t just speed he discovered: it was hunger. A hunger that crawled in the pit of his stomach. A hunger that was a maw to all food.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

Nothing satiated it. Nothing until he snapped at a nurse. Bit into her arm with the feral nature of a dog captured. A fit of anger, a tantrum, the doctor had noted at first until… until… there was a growl, inhuman. Deep in the young boy’s chest. The boy, the sweet friendly boy who hated the pills ever so much, glared up at the doctor. Red eyes, red mouth, white fangs.

Instead of being scolded that evening and tossed into isolation, he was given the sweetest treat he had ever tasted. A red jelly that jiggled like a belly while laughing. But smelt of iron-blood.

He was a success. He deserved to be celebrated.

The others followed swiftly.

Heeseung hated the pills they were forced to ingest. Wake up; pills. Lunch; pills. Dinner; pills. Pills, pills, pills. He hated them. He hadn’t been there the longest – that title went to Jungwon, but he was the eldest of the boys. So, since day one of the doctor’s arrival, he had a higher dose of everything until it was proven unhealthy for the boy. What was unhealthy was difficult to determine apparently. He’d vomit; his stomach cramped. He’d be trembling with chills and hot with a fever within hours. He was bedridden; he was exhausted; he was jittery.

He had seven pills in his cup. Why? Why? Jay had two pills!

He asked why; they didn’t tell him. When his symptoms grew, Heeseung tried to figure out how to feel better. Take more pills, take less. Nothing worked. His body weening from the medicine was just as bad as taking the medicine he realized. His skin crawled. His head felt like it was going to explode. Sometimes he couldn’t bear the sunlight touching his skin. It burned his eyes, forcing him to stay in his room. Once he tried to hide his pills. He tucked them into his pillow, threw them out the window. When it was discovered by one of the trio of nurses, he wasn’t punished. He simply was force-fed the pills rather than allowing himself to drop each tablet on his tongue. That happened for a month. After that he didn’t challenge them again. Grimacing, he’d swallow down the pills pressed against his mouth. Always at the supervision of a too-calm nurse with a sick smile on her perfectly lipsticked lips.

He tried to talk to Jungwon, but Jungwon didn’t talk much anymore. He simply stared. Stared and stared as he sat at the head of the dinner table, plate empty. Eyes empty. When was the last time he saw his friend smile… eat… It scared him. Sometimes Heeseung swore he could hear his voice in his head.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

Can’t. Can’t. Can’t.

Control. Control. Control.

Heeseung would itch and writhe and change until he too couldn’t stand the taste of food. Couldn’t swallow another bite of rice. Until he tried to attack his nurse as she fed him his pills. With aching teeth and a gnawing stomach, he bit his nurse’s hand as she forced the pills down his throat. Heeseung thought her blood tasted sweeter than any treat he’s ever tasted.

That night at the dinner table, there were now only five plates full of food and two bare. It was also the first time Jungwon heard another voice in his head, one that sounded like the eldest without him opening his mouth. Their dark rubied eyes locked.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Heeseung chanted in Jungwon’s head.

The youngest Riki, often called by the nickname ‘Niki’ after he stumbled over his own name in introductions at the orphanage, was exceptionally difficult. He spat out his pills; he’d get placed in isolation. He fought with the others; he’d get placed in isolation. He stole Sunoo’s bear; isolation. Far too often, he was in the locked room. Solidarity confinement to encourage him to play nice. It just made him feel invisible and hurt – especially when none of the boys visited him.

Except for Sunoo who loved to act as older brother to the younger (despite holding his stuffed animal close to his chest everywhere he went in the mansion). He’d sit outside the isolation room’s door, whispering ‘hello’s underneath the door’s gap or peering through the keyhole to see each other and wave his bear’s paw at him. Riki would tease him about his stupid bear, but then he’d cling to his own pillow as the nurses began to inject whatever was in the pills into his arm. It was then proven that he was no troublemaker, just a lost little boy clinging to a pillow as another shot was pressed into his arm. Tears trickled down his cheeks.

Riki hadn’t taken the pills in a while, not like his hyungs. He told his doctor that he liked the pills. Can’t he take the pills again? He wouldn’t spit them out, promise! The injections hurt. His arm would ache. Then, his stomach would ache. Then, his head would ache. He’d toss and turn on the examination table in agony.

It went on for so long. Sometimes the others would hear his cries at night, whimpering for a mother or father that wasn’t there. Eventually, Jungwon would sneak out at night, too fast to catch, and rest on the floor outside of the isolated room to whisper comfort to the youngest.

It’ll be okay. You’re okay.

I’m here, Riki. I’m here.

With the sadness, the loneliness, the pain, there was a violence brewing in Riki after each check-up. He was angry, no, beyond that, he was rageful. He wished the nurses, the doctor, the manager of the orphanage, could feel what he felt – like time had stopped. He found out one day that his birthday had passed with no celebration.

“It was a lesson,” a nurse warned as she drew his blood. “Good boys get to celebrate fun things.”

He watched as his blood filled the vial with disdain. It looked sludge-thick, dark red.

He craved something he didn’t understand right then. His stomach curdled and ached. But food tasted of ash, of dirt, of everything bad. Bad, bad, bad. He refused to eat, gnashing teeth at anything they offered. He wouldn’t even drink a sip of blood when it was finally presented to him. In an unassuming white Dixie Cup. He threw it at the doctor, growling.

“Ungrateful boy,” the doctor hissed out.

Hungry, he thought.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

He needed food, not blood!

They had to restrain him, a shackle on his ankle to the nearby brick wall of the isolation room… until he tore it away from the wall it was mounted in. Until his hunger blinded him in blood-red. Until he was somehow out of his room, on the other side of the locked door. Until he was tearing his fangs into the first person he saw – into the neck of his friend who often came to sit outside his bolted-room door to talk. Sunoo.

Sunoo had been born by the bite rather than the pill. Riki had drained him near dry before the nurses had found them in a daze. He was half-dead, and the only way he was recovered was through Jungwon. His blood was siphoned into the dying veins of Sunoo. His venom; his blood; their venom; their blood.

Sunoo’s eyes flashed opened, and he saw only red for a moment. Vermillion haze. Until he saw his friends, his so-called brothers, peering over at him on the makeshift medical bed. His throat ached, but he simply smiled. Fangs and all.

He suffered the most after his transformation. Unlike the others whose symptoms came and went in waves, building gradually before they succumbed, he went through everything at the same time. He couldn’t go into daylight, couldn’t bear the touch of the sun or the glare of lights; he was hungry all the time and would attack for it. He’d try to bite his brothers; he’d eat scrapes he’d find from the night’s dinner; he’d vomit. Anger would overwhelm – he even tore the limbs off his beloved stuffed bear which left him crying inconsolably. He felt like he wasn’t even himself. Unsafe.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

His feet moved so fast one day; some thought he was levitating… until they realized he was. If he was scared or hungry or anything, he’d fly away, hide away in a closet. He’d hug his stitched-up bear close to him, whispering words with sharpened teeth. All the while he hoped this was all a nightmare he’d wake up from.

Sunoo learned, if he tried hard enough, he could live in his mind. Making up a world he loved. Where he felt safe. Sometimes if someone was close to him, they could see his fantasy world too. So bright, so beautiful. Only for it to eventually fade away into this. A mansion of horrors.

At this point, the boys had been divided up. Half remained in the solarium, the other half in their bedrooms. The solarium had been converted into a horrible makeshift medical office. White bedsheets were draped about, over the bookshelf, the table, their chairs, the sofa. Everything. Medical equipment – syringes, needles, pills, IV drips. A machine that beeped with their heart beats. They were poked and prodded. Doses were increased.

Jake. Jay. Sunghoon. Grew. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

Jake had a strange case of side effects. Hot and cold. He was cold. Icy to the touch. He felt half-dead for days before breaking out into a fever. So hot and restless. He’d sink down in icy baths for hours. He felt more like he was half-fish than human sometimes.

He’d rest his forehead against the cool bathtub’s porcelain and breath in and out only for that once icy cold water to become boiling hot. His hands glowed, heat pulsing from them as the water bubbled about him. He’d throw himself out of the tub, scalding hot water sloshing onto the tiles below.

Nurses would run in. Fearful only for him to look at them, eyes strangely bloody, and his hands sparking with fire.

He was locked up like Riki once was. With the addition of flame-retardant gloves and chains tight on his hands. He was quiet when they did so. He grew quieter and quieter as the days passed. With hot flashes, cold flashes, hunger flashes, he felt like a live wire.

Sometimes, when he was bored, he’d stare at the lights, blinding white lights until they’d burst. Until he flooded the electric grid and the entire house suffered power outages. He didn’t know how he did it. All he knew was that he could. Something was wrong.

One day, when he felt cold as ice with a stomach gasping with hunger, the smell of food disgusted him. The nurse sent to feed him his porridge made the wrong move. Unclasping his shackles, undoing his gloves. He pounced, more monster than man and bit her, drained her. There were no other nurses rushing in; there was no doctor to stop him. Jake didn’t stop drinking, drinking, drinking until it was just him and the corpse of a nurse he’d known for half of his life. He passed out in a fever soon after, still hungry he realized pathetically.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

He was found by the doctor hours later. His mouth was cleaned, his clothes cleaned; he was laying in his bed and not the isolation room. The nurse was gone. Where had she gone? The young teen stared up with blood-red eyes. The doctor smiled and said everything was okay now. He was forgiven.

A cup of blood was handed to him in a paper cup.

Jake took it, knowing he was freed from his cage, his restraints gone, but somehow still a prisoner to a new shackle he didn’t want to bear.

From day one, Jay had always listened to the nurses, had listened to their manager, had listened to the doctor. For years, he listened and obeyed. He was a good patient, a good boy. Trusting their words as they fed him pill after pill, shot after shot. No matter how much he cried when his arm ached or his stomach churned. They’d say he was a good boy for taking his medicine. “Why couldn’t you be good like Jay?” He had heard that said hundreds of times.

So, it was funny how miserable he felt. How bad like a rotten apple sitting in the sun. Jay just felt awful. His friends one by one turned into someone unlike themself. Biting, blood, red eyes. Everyone felt angry… he didn’t know how he knew it but he did. Sometimes, if he stared at them long enough, he could just tell.

The nurse was upset today. She was sad and guilty… they tasted like the smell of rain, like salty soup.

Another nurse hadn’t come into care for them. Maybe she was with the others? He couldn’t tell.

Sunghoon was lonely; it tasted like woodchips, like dust in the corners of a room. Jay tried to play a game with him, but soon their different symptoms distracted them. A headache, nausea, exhaustion.

The doctor was never angry. He wasn’t sad either. He was so joyful at their suffering. Jay could taste it like it was liquid sugar, melting on his tongue. Jay hated him. Sometimes he hoped the doctor could feel it when he glared at him. Sometimes Jay swore he did, when he’d flinch or take too sharp of breath in.

While Jay was one of the eldest, he was one of the last to change fully. He was stuck between food and blood for a long time. Unlike the others, his eyes didn’t turn red when he was given a cup of blood. He drank it down like a good boy, but it didn’t have the same effect as the others. So, they’d mix some blood into his soups, his porridge, his rice. Everything a pale pink. He’d throw it up. Food disagreeing with him; blood disagreeing with him. More tests had him hooked up to IVs, and his blood tested.

The nurses said it was his will not the treatment’s fault. The duo said they saw him hungry during their blood-draws; they said they saw how he’d lick his lips whenever the blood from his own veins dripped into the vial.

Blood called to him like a siren from a fairytale.

The first time he attacked the doctor for his blood was the last time he drank from a human who was awake. Their pain, their emotions flaring, he felt it then. Understood it then. It bittered everything. It hurt. He hated it. He hated it all.

He drank blood from an IV. From a cup. From the jelly the nurses made. Never from another being. Even if his stomach growled and the maw inside him whispered: Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

Jay refused to be a monster.

Sunghoon was last to change. The loneliest. He was kept away from the boys after they turned one by one. Locked away in the solarium, he slept there, ate, read. Every now and then, Jungwon would visit him by the window. One warm hand pressed against the glass, larger than Jungwon’s cold palm.

He felt weak. Not only was he somehow not changing to whatever his friends were – but he was exhausted daily. Laying in the solarium, he began to sleep during the day, staying awake all night. As time pass alone, his tests grew worse. His muscles were deteriorating. Like his body was eating away at him. Pain became Sunghoon.

They whispered; he heard them. Should they use the others’ blood? Their venom? But Sunoo was so feral; he apparently had just begun to adjust. Could they handle another boy acting so erratic?

He couldn’t understand that he was dying. He was in a blur; sometimes it felt like the world would just blend into a watercolored haze, and he’d be outside his body. He knew where the nurses were, the doctor, the other boys. Their hearts, their breaths, their muscles flexed as his deteriorated. It was strange, scary.

It wasn’t until one day there was a horrible cracking sound from his body, unearthly. Inhumanly monstrous but also frighteningly fragile that the doctor simply force-fed him blood. Just regular blood. No venom, no medicine, no Jungwon or Riki or Jay or Heeseung.

It was vile. Blood wasn’t meant for humans. . . was he a human? He didn’t know anymore. The blood was poured down his throat. Head tilted back; nose plugged. Iron-sick, ruby-slick, he’d cough and cough as he sat up from his ‘feeding.’ Blood dripped down his chin, staining his sweater.

“You look better,” said the doctor with a disgustingly joyful smile. A bright light shined in his eyes made him blearily blink.

“Tapetum lucidum, positive.” The doctor said pleasantly, to the nearby nurse before clicking the illuminator off.

Red eyes, red mouth, baby fangs. It took time, but they grew and elongated after two weeks of forced blood drinking 3 times a day. Despite his hunger, Sunghoon hated blood. He didn’t want it; he didn’t want the hunger.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

The next time, on day fifteen, he drank willingly. Not just one cup but seven.

The examinations didn’t stop. The medicine didn’t stop. Even after all of this, they were forced to drink this blood and their pills.

The only difference was that they finally weren’t separated. The day they were reunited was strange. Waves of emotions only led to the boys staring at one another like strangers. Some looked so different. Sunghoon hadn’t seen Jungwon in over a year. He almost didn’t recognize him. Riki was taller. Sunoo clung to Jungwon’s arm. Jake looked like a ghost.

“The family is back together,” the doctor cheered as they all sat in the solarium together for the first time in months.

Rubied eyes stared at the doctor, silent.

“Let’s take a photograph to commemorate this!” a nurse chimed out.

There was only one nurse left now – they didn’t know where the second one went. Sitting together on a white draped sofa, the seven didn’t smile. They simply stared as the large contraption was set up on spindly metal legs. With a crack of a light bulb, the photograph was taken.

Their eyes looked eerily pale in the monochrome photo, like a dog’s at night. The doctor was the only one grinning ear to ear. A flicker of a fang was visible in Riki’s grimace.

Photographs of their mouths and eyes were taken that day, too. Sometimes Heeseung wonders if it was all for that from the start.

“We should leave,” Jay whispered one night.

The boys - no, they weren’t boys; they hadn’t been boys in a long time – they were men, teenagers with the tempers of children and the hunger of a monster – they sat inside Jungwon’s bedroom, a common gathering place solely due to the bright moon outside of his window. None of them had windows – too much of a risk. But, Jungwon had been such a good boy. Such a success.

Jungwon just simply knew what the nurses and doctor wanted. A doll. A research subject. So he was that, a scientific silent thing. But here he’d stroke his Sunoo’s head as he curled into his lap, still clinging to his bear. Here, Jungwon’s rubied eyes that stared blankly at dinners and breakfasts were round and empathetic as he nodded along with Jay. Here he was himself – as much of himself as he could be with the constant growl of the Beast in his ear.

“We need to get out of here.” He agreed.

“But what if—what if we need them?” A tentative voice asked.

It was a strange thing to feel – a need towards those who had harmed them. A double-edged sword. The experiments hadn’t stopped. The medicine hadn’t stopped. They were still being tested on despite their changes. But… this was all they knew. They’ve never went past the town, never breached past the tree-line. What if it was worse… alone?

Despite their hunger. Sunoo’s voice was fragile.

“We don’t need them,” Riki bit out, arms crossed. As the youngest, he was still the most volatile; Heeseung summed it up to teenage hormones.

There was a beat as a wave of calm settled over them like a cool mist from a forest, like the minty way your mouth felt after brushing them with toothpaste.

“Jay,” Jake whispered, half-scolding.

He knew it was him; Jake never felt so at peace nowadays, only when Jay manipulated the emotions of the room to his will. Jay flashed a bashful smile, red cheeked.

“We don’t need them,” Jungwon redirected the conversation, firmly.

“What could be worse?” Sunghoon bit out, eyes staring up at the moon. His head leaned against the window pane.

“Dying,” it was not said but thought. Each of the vampires could hear the voice of Heeseung echoing in the back of their minds like it was their own thought.

Riki shivered. “I hate when you do that,” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” Heeseung muttered. He didn’t know how to quite control it yet. His thoughts were like a stream connected to a river and that river to a larger ocean. Sometimes they flowed into others.

“Okay,” Jungwon huffed. Sunoo nuzzled into his arm sleepily. “Dying isn’t an option. We can’t.”

“We’ve been through all of this just to die?” Riki added, crossing his arms as he shifted his weight against the wall. “No way.”

“What if we are hungry…?” Sunoo asked.

When weren’t they? Even Jungwon struggled with his hunger, he had bitten his fair share of the remaining nurses. It was silent. What would they do?

“We can stock up before we leave,” Jay said, hand going through his hair as he tried to block out the ranging emotions around him. Excitement, nervousness, fear, anxiousness. It was making him sick to his stomach.

“And after?” Another asked.

“We’ll figure it out.” Sunghoon said, quietly. Optimistically. He raised a brow as he looked over the others. As the fledgling among them, the youngest in terms of whatever this curse was, he was most prone to outbursts for blood. If he could try, they could.

Heeseung looked at the room, once over. “We figure it out,” he agreed.

“Together.”

Their break-out wasn’t a simple thing planned in one night under a full moon. It took a month of planning. Of preparing. Stealing IV bags of blood when the nurse was busied – some of them causing problems, so they could grab more. They were hiding them in the glass fine china cabinet in the solarium; it had rested empty and covered by a white sheet for years now. No one checked there. When the cabinet was full, they began tucking the blood bags into pillows and mattresses they had gutted with the strange claws they realized they were starting to have. If they focused, they’d grow, thicken into incredibly sharp nails.

One night, Jungwon even hid some of the pills they were forced to swallow down – just in case – in a place no one would ever look. He was quick, grabbing all he could. Inhumanly fast, he looked this way and that – just waiting for the nurses to return. In his hurry, he grabbed other bottles strewn about that had unknown names - ferrous sulfate, calciferol, allium sativum, melatonin.

It was a cold November night when they planned to leave – but they didn’t know it; after all, experiments didn’t need to know the date, or the time, or the year.

They went off the moon. Each day a sliver of the moon grew and grew larger. It was supposed to be a full moon that night. Yet when the moon peeked around the tall trees outside Jungwon’s window, it was strange. Reddish, bright, bloody.

“It’s fate,” Sunghoon had whispered as they waited in the shadows of Jungwon’s bedroom.

A blood moon for the vampires.

With the doctor drugged, forced to drink down the mixture of pill Jungwon had found (Riki had dropped in his nightly tea like they were forced to down blood), they crept down the stairs.

It was quiet. The snores of the doctor echoed down the hall. Their feet dodged the creaking parts of the wooden floor. The vampires clung to belongings – tied up into makeshift sacks made of bedding. Thick winter coats covered their layers of clothes. Sunoo held his bear.

Heeseung’s voice rang out in their head.

“Sunghoon’s going to get the key.” It was whispered in their minds, almost as if he was afraid that he’d be heard even there.

It was in the doctor’s office.

They froze in the entry-way, the foyer feeling colder by the second despite their inability to feel the chill (really, even their layered clothes were just out of habit – weren’t they supposed to feel cold in winter?) Their breaths were low, dark eyes flickering between each other as they waited. Sunghoon wasn’t the quickest like Jungwon. But he had a sense to him, that was unlike any of them. Like warning bells were built into his head.

It was almost too easy. Until it wasn’t.

“Hey – what are you--?” the doctor cried out, shaken awake.

Were the pills a fluke? Riki’s eyes went wide, frightened at the sound. Sunoo grabbed onto Jay. There was the sound of fighting, grunts. A thunk against a wall.

Jungwon leaned forward, wanting to run to help but Heeseung’s hand reached out to stop him.

“I got it,” Sunghoon yelled out, the sound like a scream in the quiet silence.

He rushed out of the room; the wooden door slamming against the wall. A clambering of footsteps followed him.

“Get back here, you brat,” the doctor yelled.

Sunghoon felt more alive than ever. He ran fast. Riki stared down the doctor, shaking against the doorway. He wanted him to just stop, stop, stop. They had to get out of here.

To his surprise, the doctor did. He froze. Mid step, floating in the air. His sleep-hat caught in the air. Glasses askew. Not only did the doctor stop but so did his friends… no, his family. He glanced around. Jungwon was to his left, hand on the door knob, ready to unlock the door. Heeseung had grabbed Jake’s hand. Sunoo was curling towards Jay. Riki’s breath burned in his throat as he held onto it with all his might. He took a small nervous step… nothing else shifted. He was the only one to be able to step forward.

And he did. He walked over to Sunghoon. His hair was flopping mid-air, teeth bared, fangs sharp. His hand held the key tightly. With ease, Riki slipped it out of his blood-brother’s hand. Bounding over to the door, he turned the lock. There was a chill climbing up his spine, his breath electric in his lungs. Opening the door, he let out his held breath in a single gasp. With it, the world to come rushing to action. But there was no contest, no obstacle now. A door was open with the darkness outside pouring into the mansion.

The boys simple ran out the door, bewildered to how it was opened and unlocked. Sunghoon glanced at his hand for only a moment before ignoring the impossibility of the world and sprinting harder. He’d take the miracle. Maybe it was really fate. Fate for them to escape.

They broke past the tree-line, hooting and hollering as they continued to run and run and run. Away from the mansion and into their new lives.

The doctor huffed and puffed glaring out into the darkness, only made darker under the blood moon. Today’s experiment yielded a result – vampires were faster than a middle-aged man. He would find them one day. He would. The door of the mansion was shut behind a livid doctor with a heavy thud.

90 notes · View notes

suppermariobroth · 2 years ago

Photo

In Luigi’s Mansion, scanning a mirror with the Game Boy Horror normally provides a quick way back to the Foyer. The image in the mirror will start spinning, then Luigi himself spins around and warps to the Foyer.

However, a glitch can result in the mirror image spining indefinitely without warping Luigi. If the mirror in the 2F Washroom is scanned at the same time as Luigi defeats the ghost in this room, the warp will fail and the image will keep spinning while Luigi is free to move around. The spinning speed will keep increasing forever until the image is unrecognizable.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source

#luigi's mansion #nintendo

1K notes · View notes

satoruhour · 1 year ago

Note

🪻ugh your drabble about sore reader reminded of this one hc I think of so much that it’s embarrassing. Imagine gojo getting on sorcerer!reader’s nerves to the point that she and utahime almost have an anti-gojo hate club, and one time while bantering with him she jokes about his size or how he’s so self centred he probably can’t even make a woman cum.

Satoru only says “wanna see what I’m all about?” and safe to say she gets dicked down like there’s no tomorrow. Throughout the night he also makes fun of her for being all talk in the beginning but cumming so easily, makes her beg for it, will never let her live it down. Next day Utahime’s real pissed she lost her club’s vice chairperson.

My kitty isn’t even purring atp she’s meowing loud and crystal clear. Satoru who’s smug and a big tease in bed is so unbelievably sexy to me

a/n: discussions of incompetent dick game LMAO, oral f! receiving, fingering, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple rounds

OHHHH MY GOD YOURE SO RIGHT ACTUALLY HYACINTH ANON sorry i took so long to get to this sobs. yes yesyes id like to think sorcerer was with them before but left the scene like nanami and never truly kept in touch with the students at tokyo high. id also like to think this happens before the actual series starts (ages 24 - 25) bc gojo might still be honing his technique and theres still that playful banter at that age. god and they have a school reunion and he does some annoying crap dude.... utahime is DEFINITELY debriefing with you after that whole thing. shes by your side the whole night recalling on the stupid shit gojo did as a hs kid, when he collapsed that mansion without putting up the veil. you had to calm her down LMFAO

but at the reunion there was alcohol and you both get hiiiiigh and all things get 18+ almost immediately, talking about how gojo def cant find the clit and he fingers women wrongly and cant make any use of his dick thats probs small 😭😭😭 which is like ... you also have an inkling that he might not be that small because he is .... 2 metres tall but ya never know with how cocky gojo is. and that inkling is gone instantly when u hear him talk cause his voice is so ANNOYING and dripping with cockiness. he also has that certain lilt in his voice that you realise he uses only with you, overly teasing and silky smooth and u hate how you notice that

gojo is fucked up as well, u know he doesnt hold his liqour well but hes sober enough to ask “wanna see what im all about?” and you especially hate how you look around to see where hime is at and when u just catch a glimpse of her heading into the bathroom, youre nodding slowly and you do nooooot know what youre getting urself into !

needless to say, gojo is already getting u so hot and bothered just from a simple kiss. he warped you two back to your apartment (bc he rather die than get found out by megs and tsumiki), which he has been to before !!!!! gods even the tension back then was so palpable but gojo was in a vulnerable place with geto and everything and didnt want to do anything that would hurt his heart more. you two make out for A WHILLLEEEE and if ure wondering if hes alr so good at kissing, what else is he good at ....?

youre proven wrong time and time again when gojo goes striaght for your clit, rubbing slow circles and he has u begging for more, more something just mere rubs. gojo has the gall to lick a stripe up your soaked panties and sucks a little at your clit and god he is LOVING the way all your previous insults about him fall short of your lips and doesnt have the same punch: “still doesnt prove your dick’s b-big—” gojo lips your panties to the side and eats you out. he eats. you. out. to prove a point but also he falls in love with your pussy, slobbering all over it and shit. “didnt tell my your pussy was so good, baby.” “cat got your tongue? do i live up to your standards?”

you realise hes cocky for a reason and that his tongue game is fucking insane. the same goes for his fingers, locking eyes when he first inserts his digits in and your moan is like heaven to gojo bc he likes nothing more than to prove people wrong. and this is the best way to do it !!!! “cum on my tongue, sweetness.” oh YOU DO !!! YOU DOOOOOO

and then you think gojos done with making his statement. nah. youre so fucked out just from oral and hes smirking down at you, bringing your hands to his crotch.

“what?”

“wan’ you to open my pants yourself.”

“so it’s small?”

gojo scoffs with a smile, he already finds himself addicted to you and your taste. “no. just curious to see your surprised face.”

it gets him off every time (even after dating. and cmon dont tell me you WONT be his gf or at least his fwb after this?) you react like that, mouth open and eyes never leaving his exposed cock that he could probably slam it inside.

wee woo and once he starts to fuck you ooohhhhhhggggghhh eveyrthing you say is INCOHERENT. you try to string words together, insults and name calling here and there but it’s always interrupted by moans and whines. “you’re so— mmhfuck— insanely anno— satoru!” its words and words but none of them make sense. youre drunk on his cock. he fucks you in every position imaginable and the first time he wants to pull out bc he isnt an asshole, you're trapping him between your legs and begging him to cum inside, inside, inside WOOOOWWW HE GOES INSANE.

“i’m on the pill, s-satoru! wan’ your cum inside, please, please—”

“you’re driving me fucking c—crazy. i will, i will.”

anyway yeah you guys go multiple rounds and youre rendered speechless at every turn, surprised at yourself that even when youre spent youre sinking down on his cock and riding him yourself right after you both came. everythings sticky and gross and gojos still sensitive but hes hooked on your pussy and lets you do whatever <33

the next morning u wake up caged in his arms and hes saying something annoying again. “wanna make this a regular thing?” and you attempt to reject him, pushing him away and getting up from your bed but youre sore everrywherreeee and he swoops in just as youre about to fall. “dick too good, huh?” you roll your eyes and just let yourself be pampered by him. you spend that next day just making out and being close to each other and u wonder what to tell utahime LMFOAAOAOA

you end up getting a few missed calls after gojo had sent a selfie of you both, blanket covering your naked bodies after doing the obvious and he just chucks ur phone to the side and continues to kiss you LMAOAOAOAO. oh sigh thats such a nice scenario maybe ill write it properly one day

hello hello!

#🪻 anon #asks #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader

459 notes · View notes

danerom · 8 months ago

Text

the mechanics in this haunted mansion was so fun!! gotta split groups to roll stealth!! random d8 rolls no one knows why!! d4 rolls for the time showing the time warp!! mystery cards given to the players with secret rolls and mechanics!! the reveals of whos possessed and the players having fun roleplaying baron!! brennan’s glee of finally achieving legit pvp!!

#lou was almost tooo excited to pvp LMAO #d20 #fhjy #fantasy high #dimension 20 #brennan lee mulligan #lou wilson #emily axford #siobhan thompson #brian murphy #zac oyama #ally beardsley

275 notes · View notes

possiblylando · 1 year ago

Text

An Analysis on the meaning of each Moonscorched Contestant in Termina.

It comes with the territory; Discussions of Sexual Content Additionally, Spoilers for Termina. CHAUGNAR; Abella

Chaugnar is one of the more unusual moonscorched forms as unlike other Moonscorched forms it doesn't seem to share much with Abella herself. Chaugnar takes the form of a Large Masculine humanoid with a Mutilated Earless Elephant head. It's skin seems almost scaley in portions, Like it's been callused. The lower half of Chaugnar is the most obvious parallel in the design. Abella lives a more masculine life for the 1940s. Due to be a mechanic she's in much better shape than many other contestants. Notably being the only Female Contestant able to use two handed weapons without issue. I've not encountered anything suggesting Abella to be insecure about her masculinity; which is a bit odd for a Moonscorched form as they tend to embody the traits the original contestant was most insecure about. Chaugnar as a name originates from H.P. Lovecraft Mythos, From a creature of the same name. However it's been confirmed the name Chaugnar is a reference in name alone due to having a similar appearance to Chaugnar from Lovecraft Mythos. So the question stands, Why does Chaugnar have an Elephant's head? Looking at Elephants from a spiritual sense they tend to represent Luck and Prosperity. Which would take on an inverted meaning as Abella is one of the first Contestants to become Moonscorched. Additionally I've seen the theory that Chaugnar's Elephant Head is due to Abella being fused with another version of the Woodsman's "Parasite" which jumps her in Tunnel 7. However Abella still becomes Chaugnar if she's in your party at the Tower or the player waits until Day 4. This could be so that she doesn't have two Moonscorched forms. Depending on how you look at it this could prove or disprove the theory.

Lore - It can't be the Parasite because Abella becomes Chaugnar when she isn't caught by one.

Development - It could be the Parasite because making an entirely new Moonscorched form just for the Tower would take a lot of extra time for an unnecessary feature.

THE GENTLEMAN (THE MAYOR); Henyrk

The Gentleman is one of the more straight forward Moonscorched forms. But also one of the more interesting ones. The Gentleman takes the form of a Large Guard-Esq creature which an unusual head. It's face is twisted to the point you're unable to make out it's expression at any given moment. Additionally it's eyes are so warped it's not clear if they're eyes of secondary mouths replacing them. Put simply the Gentleman is an exaugurated version of Henyrk who's lost a majority of his inhibitions. Unlike Abella it's much more clear why Henyrk Moonscorches so early on in the competition. Henyrk is prone to Paranoia and Panic as seen in the mayor's mansion on Morning 1. The Gentleman retains most of Henyrk's sensibilities but seems unattached to Henyrk's memories. This is a twisted form of how Henyrk views himself. Notably I don't believe the Gentleman to be a bad person. Unlike many other Moonscorched forms he retains an ability to reason and control himself. He won't attack the player unless they directly insult his cooking, One of the only things Henyrk seemed to value himself on. Notably it seems the Gentleman went through several phases in development which are still leftover in the game. Under certain circumstances Marina can be found in the Mayor's mansion having been kidnapped by him. Given what I've previously said about the Gentleman I doubt he would've done anything Sexually Predatory to her as Henyrk doesn't seem like the kind of person who would do something like that. However the same can not be said for the Gentleman's original appearance.

This version of the Gentleman is much more defined demonic appearance, His face showing visible malice and anger. Additionally he can be seen with a Stinger, Similar to the guards in the first game. Clearly this initial design was meant to evoke the Guards. However unlike the Guards who are animalistic, The Gentleman is cruelly aware of his disgusting deeds. I have no doubt this version of the Gentleman would have been a Sexual Predator. Given his design was changed to remove the more crass "implications" (Less Implications more outright statements), Its logical to assume the final version of the Gentleman wouldn't be as disgusting as the original. DYSMORPHIA; Samarie

Dysmorphia takes the form of a tall black feminine creature. Her torso is notably rounded. The flesh around Her face is flayed and pulled back by a metal ring behind her head evoking the imagry of a Halo. Dysmorphia is one of the more interesting Moonscorched forms as she acts less like a monster and more like an awoken form of Samarie. She shares many of the same emotional issues and insecurities as Samarie. Dysmorphia as a name is incredibly straight forward as it refers directly to Samarie's feelings of hatred towards herself. As a recap, Samarie was apart of the Experiments in the 9th circle to contact the old gods. Her time there was torturous and awakened her ability to read minds. She feels ostracized from society and is always afraid of her imitate death due to what happened to her. Notably if she survives Termina she seems to be able to continue living just fine as she's seen to still be stalking Marina. While not explicitly stated it's possible Samarie as a form of Body Dysmorphia. Dysmorphia has a rounder stomach and torso in comparison to Samarie's stick thin body. It's hard to say if this is intentional or not due to Samarie's lack of- really anything in the game. Samarie and Dysmorphia by extension are torn between their self hatred and their need to be able to live as their true selves. As seen in their battle dialog. Player: “You were just a regular person a moment ago...” Dysmorphia: “What is that supposed to mean!? Why must everyone be regular!? Regular this! Regular that! Be normal! YOU CALL ME REGULAR!?” You managed to infuriate Dysmorphia with your persuasion efforts. (+Furious)

She's so blindsided by anyone showing any sort of kindness to her that it's enough to make her question everything she's been doing and planning for, For assumably years. Dysmorphia: “I did all this for her... I had it all ready... But then you come along...AND RUINED IT ALL!” Player: [PERSUADE] “Let's just talk this through. No harm done yet...” Dysmorphia: “Talk!? TALK!? Why would you want to talk to me!? Just look at me!” Player: “What's so weird about wanting to talk?” Dysmorphia: “...” Dysmorphia is clearly hesitating... “This is just a trick, isn't it...? You don't care about me...” (+Hesitation) I'll talk about it more in detail when I get to the Mastermind but it's also seen with Dysmorphia. Moonscorching seems less like complete monsterfication and more like an Evolution/Awakening. It's quite literally stated by Dysmorphia. Player: “What do you mean 'radiating'?”

Dysmorphia: “Like a moth! I'm finally close to bloom! A hairy moth in the night!” MONSTER; Caligura

The Monster is the most straight forward Moonscorched form. It takes the form of a giant bulbus and warty combination of a Vagina and a Ball sack. This is because Caligura is a bastard. He is a ball sack before he's moonscorched and he's a ball sack after he's moonscorched. Gaining a Vagina mouth represents his lust after women. There is not much depth present in Caligura's moonscorched form. It maintains a portion of Caligura's consciousness but not much. It's only real communication ability is insults and telling the player to choke on it's balls. Semi Unrelated to Monster; One theory I've heard is that Caligura is Samarie's Bio-Dad due to how similar they look. They look even more similar when you look at Beta Caligura in comparison to Samarie.

It's interesting enough to mention due to Monster's otherwise lack of subtly. WEEPING SCOPE; Levi

The Weeping Scope takes on a tall and semi-thin masculine form with an elongated torso. It's head has been replaced with the fleshy barrel of a tank cannon. The remains of Levi's clothes can be seen fused to it's upper torso with a notable lack of visible gentiles despite the lack of clothes. The Weeping Scope represents Levi's worst possible ending. Unlikely others like Dysmorphia and Gentleman who act as evolved forms of their contestants, Weeping Scope is Levi regressed back to his trauma and unable to escape from it. It seems to act entirely on instinct until it has a realization of what it's become. He's been turned into a weapon which can't do anything except kill. Once the player encounters the Scope for the first time it'll fire on them before fleeing. Once it flees it will hide in the Orphanage and become passive to the player unless they directly attack it. Levi is clearly still present within the Scope and still wants to be able to move on from his Trauma but is unable to escape it as he keeps getting dragged back into it. The Scope goes to the Orphanage as despite it being a location Levi was implied to have been abused in, It's the only familiar place he knows in Prehevil. Levi will never be able to fully escape the terrible circumstances of his upbringing as they'll always hang over him. -Second Reading- There's also another possible reading of the Weeping Scope which I'll mention. In this interpretation the Scope acts as an inverted version of the Cocoon. Both forms see the Contestants lose their heads in place of their most notable mutation and lose control over themselves to that mutation. The Cocoon is controlled by the Cocoon, And the Scope is controlled by it's gun. Additionally the reason no gentiles are visible on the Scope is because it doesn't have a dick, It has a Vagina which is hidden by it's pubic hair. Both the Scope and the Cocoon reveal the biggest insecurities of their contestants, Being their birth gender. This reading would make Levi trans. I think it's a valid reading even though it isn't the one I personally ascribe to. The main points against it can be handwaved. That main problem being, Levi was a Child Soldier long before women were allowed to fight in a war. Transphobia exists in the Fear and Hunger universe so it's unlikely they would let it slide. However it's also possible that they didn't care about gender in the slightest so long as they could use a gun and kill the enemy. POCKET CAT; Daan

We all know and [HAVE EMOTIONS PERTAINING TO] Pocket Cat. He's unusual because not only is he special he probably isn't a moonscorched form. He possesses Daan no matter what, The moon's radiation just speeds up the processes. Daan has without question the most cruel backstory in the series. It's almost a guarantee that his life was tampered with by outside forces. To put it simply, Daan was groomed into becoming Pocket Cat. Daan's blank soul definitely makes it easier (A blank soul may even be a requirement for possession) for him to become possessed by Pocket Cat. It's hard to say for certain how Possession works in Funger given we only really see it happen once. In lue of any deeper analysis on the meaning of Daan becoming Pocket Cat, I'd like to bring up something you may not know about. The Pocket Cat Room. If you bring a Joy Mask to the Man under the lamp post you're able to gain access to the Pocket Cat Room. The Pocket Cat Room will change depending on if Daan has been possessed or not. Here are the rooms pre and post possession.

It requires contest of both to fully make sense. In the original room it's been filled up with toys and bags. These are obvious metaphors for Pocket Cat's crimes. Every time we see him with a bag there's a child inside. Each of these bags likely hides a body inside. The way this is presented, Each time a new Pocket Cat is created the slate is wiped clean as they've yet to commit any atrocities. Meaning Pocket Cat as an entity is able to escape any sort of "Karmic Punishment" is the best term I can think to describe it. As seen in Daan's room the outlines of the Sun and Star and still present as he has yet to fully delve into Rher Worship. The body seen within Daan's room likely represent the Baron and Elise. The empty chalk outline could represent how the Baron was able to get up and become Needles. Or it could represent how Elise was daan's only concern in that moment as aside from the blood and police tape the room is blank. If we were encounter another Pocket Cat room in the future while Daan is still pocket cat (Probably won't happen), We'd likely see this room become morphed to fit the original being filled up with more sacks and toys and Pocket Cat's influence becomes deeper. THE MECHANICAL DANCE; Olivia

The Mechanical Dance is a weird one as it's both straight forward and mysterious at the same time. The Mechanical Dance takes the form of a Large metal pyramid with fan slots on it's sides. Attached at the top is a feminine torso in a suit with pauldrons of some sort and long stick arms. The face is completely blank aside from it's eyes. The entirety of the Dance seems to be made out of Metal. The most obvious part is that the Dance has lost it's legs entirely only being able to move via it's pyramid base. Representing Olivia being bound to a wheelchair due to her weak legs. That however is where the most obvious aspects end. Her being apart of the Dance makes some degree of sense as it could be reasons as Olivia wanting to be able to do something she can't usually do. It's hard (but not impossible) to Dance in a wheelchair. It seems the Dance's mannequin like appearance is there to draw attention away from the Humanoid aspects of it and draw attention to the Pyramid. This represents Olivia's fears/insecurities of being unable to escape the shadow of both Relia and her disability. So the Dance itself is secondary to it's mode of transport. Overall, One of the weirdest Moonscorched forms. GIANT; Marcoh

The Giant is another of the more straight forward Moonscorched forms. It takes the form of a large hulking creature with a strange warped black torso covered in eyes and teeth. It's head is comparable to that of a barnacle's tongue. Marcoh's personality is nearly completely absent from the Giant as it's only able to say "GUILTY!". It represents Marcoh's bad ending in which he becomes a brutish monster unable to think and which only acts in Violence. it's singular dialog line suggest the Giant believes everything it's doing is for the great good. However it's hard to say for sure. VALKYRIE; Karin

The Valkyrie is a peak moonscorch as it perfect encompasses Karin as a character and her flaws. The Valkyrie which opposite to it's name takes the form of a large Harpie with thick blonde hair. The bases of it's wings are protected by pauldrons and it's face is covered by a metal blindfold/helmet. It carries a group of Bellend on it's back. there has been a bit of debate as to what the creatures of her back are but they're clearly Bellend.

The Valkyrie's name represents Karin's own opinion of herself. In her mind she's a purveyor of truth and justice, Exposing the evils of the world and making sure those who suffer at it's hand never suffer in vein. Yet in reality her actions have acted to further ostracize the downtrodden by exposing the worst parts of their lives to the world. She's figuratively and literally blinded to the truth as she believes he's carrying lost warriors on her back to save them from death. In reality she's just bringing more Bellend to Prehevil so they can wreck havoc. From a Metaphor Standpoint, My favorite Moonscorched by far. Miro was cooking flames with Valkyrie. JUDGEMENT; Tanaka

Judgement is unusual as it just seems like Tanaka fell through a window. Judgement is another Moonscorched form which acts an awoken form of the initial contestant. Tanaka as much as he's meme'd as the guy who dies first, Is actually a very strong person. As seen in his growth throughout the festival.

If you fight needles after Tanaka is decapitated, Needles is notably damaged. He didn't go down without a fight even this early on. Judgement is Tanaka's logical end point should he never go through his growth. Judgement represents Tanaka breaking the metaphorical Glass ceiling as seen with all the glass in his attacks and the move called "Glass ceiling". It's rather blatant. Judgement still retains Tanaka's memories as seen when you present him with the Crossword puzzle. Player: (Player has Crosswords puzzle) “That sounds familiar. Did you fill this Crosswords puzzle?” Judgement: “What of it? Back when I first arrived here, I lacked the ambition and determination. I would waste my time on this planet on the most useless of things.” Judgement has become obsessed with the Grind. Money makes the world go round and Judgement wants the sun to rise each day so he can continue to grind. COCOON; Marina

The Cocoon is Marina's body which has been bent over backwards and forced to crab walk. It's grown a second pair of arms which it uses to aid in it's mobility. A second head has grown in place of her dick which is connected by a Leash to a large Cocoon made of twisted flesh that has replaced Marina's head. The Cocoon represents Marina's traumas and fears. The Cocoon exposes her biggest secret to the world and makes it one of the only things people are able to see about her. You're only really able to see the Head, The Limbs. And the Cocoon. It's hard to tell if the Cocoon controls the body now, Or if the new head control it. Either way it represents Marina being unable to escape being lead around by her birth gender and the baggage that comes with it. I've heard the theory that the Cocoon contains Domek's corpse due to Marina being found in the church on the final day after his death. Even in death he has an inescapable control over her. The Cocoon is up there with the Valkyrie when it comes to the insight and metaphor it can give us into their respective contestants. MASTERMIND; O'saa

I've saved the Mastermind for last for a reason. The Mastermind without doubt is the single most unusual Moonscorched form in the game. It takes the form of O'saa with a Fungal looking growth replacing his head. a disembodied eyeball floats above it's right hand. SO WHAT THE FUCK? The mastermind more than any other moonscorch proves that moonscorching itself acts as a form of evolution. O'saa has not changed outside his appearance and now inability to speak. The Mastermind will not hunt the player down, They have to engage in battle with it. O'saa does not topple over in pain when he becomes Moonscorched like the other contestants, He sits down and meditates. Alright are you ready for my crackpot theory? Moonscorching is a form of divine enlightenment akin to the throne of ascension in mah'abre. this might sound crazy as you're probably thinking they're nothing like the New Gods we see. However I assure you, They're quite similar. New Gods aren't actually Gods in the literal sense. They're humans who have gained incredible power through the throne. However we see through the new god forms of the first game's protagonist this doesn't automatically come with a new cool form. Take Ragnavldr for example, His New God form is horrific.

He's been hunched over and swallowed by his fur clothes which have begun to take over his entire body. It's much less gruesome than some of the Moonscorched form. But thats because everyone who can ascend in the Dungeon has gone there of their own volition. They're prepared to ascend. Aside from Samarie and O'saa, None of the contestants are at all prepared to enter a form of divine ascension. So their bodies are warped and twisted. They don't have what it takes to ascend to the next form of humanity like the New Gods. It's very possible that the Mastermind and Dysmorphia are incomplete forms of ascension which had yet to fully manifest their true selves. We fight them both soon after they moonscorch so they've had no time to grow accustomed to the green hue. Look at the normal Moonscorched people, None of them have the drive to become true Moonscorched beings like the contestants. While it's probably just for gameplay balance, Notice how we can only absorb souls from the Contestants? Their souls aren't strong enough to ascend via the green hue. Samarie and O'saa have the Radiant and Enlightened souls respectively. We know one's soul matters when it comes to moonscorching because Pocket Cat is able to possess Daan due to his Blank Soul. Rher is the trickster moon god, He doesn't want humans to ascend to godhood. However have you noticed how Rher's servants only try to stop the Girl from Ascending? True Humans can not ascend to godhood via the throne. Only Hybrid Humans can ascend to true godhood. The Girl is born of Le'Garde and Nilvan. A New god and a Human. Alll-Mer is the same. He was the son of a New god and a Human. So what if the Presence of an Old God is enough to impart a form of Divinity onto those receptive to it? The Old Gods we see in Funger 1 are only present for a single boss battle and are only traces. Yet Rher's traces are present for the entire game.

#fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #termina #moonscorched #fear and hunger chaugnar #fear and hunger gentleman #fear and hunger dysmorphia #fear and hunger weeping scope #fear and hunger monster #fear and hunger mechanical dance #fear and hunger pocketcat #fear and hunger giant #fear and hunger valkyrie #fear and hunger cocoon #fear and hunger mastermind #fear and hunger judgement

842 notes · View notes

zalia · 8 months ago

Text

Destiny Architecture

I went on a whole ramble about the architecture of the various factions in Destiny and thought I'd share it here. I'm not an architect, so my knowledge is basic when it comes to technical things, but hopefully it is interesting!

They did a fantastic job with the architecture of the different factions and what it says about them.

The Red Legion and Caiatl's Ascendency are all pragmatic, organised military designs - fortifications, the round buildings with windows on each side linked by trenches. Watchtowers. In the Arms Dealer strike, you have areas where there are loads of vehicles meticulously organised. They are prepared for the long haul, dug into the planets they land on, and they are proud of their machinery, both literal and metaphorica - it's all on display, the pistons and furnaces and engines. There are service shafts and hangars! It's all very practical (and makes the Glykon even more unnerving because the passages and service shafts don't make any practical sense in the way that they connect!).

Calus on the other hand... the Leviathan has the same base in terms of doors and the like, you can recognise some of the same basics - like the shapes of the doors etc. but the pragmatic things are hidden away - they're reminiscent of the servant quarters in old British stately homes - you need them for the place to function! But the people in charge don't want to see them. Calus wants to be surrounded by gold and riches and luxury and not think about the things and people that make it possible. It's always been something that I've thought of when it comes to his empire – he acts like all of it was a place of luxury and hedonism and art, but like the Roman Empire that inspired the culture, that luxury is truly only available to a few people, and is only possible because a much greater number of people are working to provide the materials and labour. We don't really hear or see much about the people the Empire conquered beyond the Psions, but were they living in such luxury? Probably not.

The Eliskni architecture all feels very cobbled together and makeshift - there are visible seams and bolts, spots where colours don't match. It's makeshift, which suits their history as a people who have been forced to flee and exist on scavenging for a long time. And there's always a lot of nautical theming going on too - rigging and nets and hoisted awnings like sails. They feel like places made by people who are expecting to need to pack up and leave at any minute. Everything tends to be rounded, which is particularly obvious when you see the Devils in Rise of Iron - everything is more angular because of SIVA and the Rasputin influence, even the shanks. I'd love it if we could get a look at the original Riis architecture.

The Hive are very gothic architecture with a dash of Gaudi (take a look at the Sagrada Família for what I'm thinking). High chambered ceilings, flying buttresses, all the carved figures and motifs - except when you get closer you realise that it's also uncomfortably organic. And it's also decaying – once you get inside the dreadnaught especially you find it full of piles of festering debris, wormspore growing from the corpses of thralls. There are spaces where anything could jump out at you. It's like a civilisation mocking the grand architecture of other species by warping it into something rotten (and also very gothic literature as well - the grand imposing gothic mansion with the dark secret and unpleasant history). The names of the locations in the Dreadnaught often tie-in with the architecture since a lot of them are religious: the portico, basillica, the crypts, the Cathedral of Dusk. They are a species worshipping Oryx, the very real and tangible god.

The Moon under Crota has a similar style, but where the Dradnaught is organic, the areas under the surface of the moon (outside the Red Keep) are more technological - there are still the flying buttresses and supports, the spikes and and pillars around the Hellmouth, but they're blockier, less rounded, stone and metal rather than chitin.

Savathun's Throne World has similar architecture, and returns to the organic feel of the Dradnaught, but in blinding white and red rather than browns. It's similar to the Leviathan in a way – the public areas are much cleaner feeling, regal and filled with Light, but when you dig down you can find the same rot and debris as the Dreadnaught (thinking especially of the 2nd mission of the Witch Queen campaign). Where the Dreadnaught was a mockery of other species, the Throne World feels like it's trying to copy them – this is what Savathun thinks the Light is, look she's changed, really! But in the end, it's more like a coat of paint slapped over a wall with a bad mold problem. The names also switch from kind of Catholic, to more magical and alchemical - Apothacary, altars, temples etc.

The Awoken are really doing the whole fantasy elf thing in a lot of ways, but more with stone than woodland than in Tolkien when we see the Dreaming City. Everything fits in seamlessly with the landscape (which makes sense since it was essentially created with wish magic to be exactly what Mara wanted!). The buildings follow the lines of mountains, pathways carved into crystal caves, the bridge which has supports like the branches of trees like they've grown up from the ground. And there's nature everywhere! But it's not a natural environment. Even when it seems like you're in nature, it's very cultivated - like the garden of a stately home which wants 'wilderness' so has landscaped it. It's also deceptive in the way you go from the 'wilderness' to these very high fantasy buildings, and then as you walk you see these technological marvels like the Oracle Engine, just integrated into it. The Dreaming City is very much portraying an image and is a very finely tuned machine in itself. I kind of wonder what the other Awoken settlements beyond the Dreaming City and the Vestian outpost look like.

Clovis Bray facilities are very minimalist and very obviously designed to make you think 'lab' and 'high technology'. He really wants you to see his stuff and have you think 'this is the future' in a way that draws 70s sci-fi ideas of the future - the way all the sharp edges are rounded off, the bright blocks of colour, the way all of the technology is very conspicuously on display, the massive windows that make all the conveyors and machinery visible. He wants to show off his stuff, and also make everyone who works there know that they're being watched. There's also the huge open spaces and massive drops like Eternity and Creation, which are utterly impractical but also feel infinite and are designed to make you go wow.

You see similar architecture on Neomuna (since Clovis was involved with the colonisation efforts) but on a much more human scale. They have a lot of the same components – the pillars and display screens, the curved bases of the walls – but they're softened with plants and murals, places to sit and socialise. It's not a lab, it's a city where people live. And also it's Neptune, they are a long way from the sun, so everything is bright and vibrant to make up for that. I think you can also see a lot of influence from the Ishtar Collective locations on Venus in Neomuna - they also tend to have a lot of display screens and neon and lots of spots for plants to grow. And then you get outside of the City and see the Veil Containment bunker and see the concrete and metal pragmatism that underpins the city.

The Iron Temple/Vostok is a place that is trying very hard to be a medieval castle with all of the statues and bonfires and the whole aesthetic of the Iron Lords. The statues of the Iron Lords all bear axes and swords. But when you look at it, you can see the very Soviet brutalist foundation of the place. So much of it is blocky concrete - the walls are squared off and unornamented, the observatory is concrete and metal. Every time I go in to where Tyra stands, I'm surprised that the pillar she's standing by is not round, because it's very easy to buy into the illusion they're projecting. There's also the concrete pillar that serves as vault and lights up when you approach - it has the technology, but like the Dreaming City, it's integrated into the landscape. Unlike the dreaming City, they really don't want to show you it.

Raputin's bunkers are just fantastic design in so many ways. They have a very clear shape (you can see the shape of a door and know immediately that this is something Warmind related), everything tends to be at right-angles. It's all very pragmatic and logically laid out. There is definitely technology there, and it's not really trying to hide, but it isn't showing off like Clovis does. Where Clovis is 70's aspirational sci-fi design, Rasputin architecture has a very Cold War vibe to it - none of the technology is flashy - it's chunky terminals running the most basic looking command line UI. It's thick cables and pipes and probably a million redundancies. The kind of tech which is designed to be found in a few centuries and still be reasonably functional. Also unhackable unless you are physically present. Rasputin is an AI so advanced that he can out-think the Vex, but his facilities are built to have the resilience of a Nokia 3310 phone, and are inspired by bunkers designed to survive nuclear war.

(I also think it's not accidental that the Warsats are made up of many angular shapes, especially triangles, trying to be a sphere, considering the whole motif of the pyramids vs the Traveller)

Pyramid Architecture is really really trying to pull off the sword logic 'pared down to remove anything extraneous' and present the idea of a universe united as one in its final shape... and is failing miserably at that. At first glance it's all straight clean lines, black stone, leaning towards brutalist, but they just can't keep it up – they're full of pillars serving no purpose, statues, coloured stone insets. Rhulk's pyramid is full of artwork painted onto the walls. There's so much symbolism built into them. They're incredibly ornate! Because as much as the Witness wants everyone to believe that it is one united force with one specific goal, it kind of isn't. It's made up of many many individuals. Even if those individuals that made it up all agreed on the final shape, it's nearly impossible to get one person to have a 100% consistent view of the universe, let alone hundreds! And especially in the Witness' pyramid ship in Root of Nightmares, you get the impression it's something of a mausoleum for its species and the other species its destroyed. There's lots of coffin-shaped and sized objects in there, and relics hidden away. It isn't as clean and focused as it would like the universe to think.

#destiny the game #destiny 2 #savathun #rasputin #destiny meta #oryx the taken king #the red legion #the witness #iron lords #meta #architecture #video games #video game meta #gaming

156 notes · View notes

heckcareoxytwit · 2 months ago

Text

Rogue, Gambit, Jubilee and Nightcrawler train the young mutants on the makeshift obstacle course. They play the game of 'Capture the Flag' with Nightcrawler holding the belt as the 'flag'.

The kids have their own tragic backstories to tell through the pages:

Jitter was bullied in school for being the first to answer the questions in class. As she had been beaten by the bullies, Jitter used her powers to get back and in the process disabling one of her tormentors.

Ransom is born with a missing heart (the black hole) and because of this, it was apparent from birth that he is a mutant. His parents then abandoned him when he got kidnapped. It seems his black hole can absorb materials and it makes him stronger.

Calico tells her own backstory where she came from a rich and sheltered life. Her mother who raised her in isolation without any interaction from the outside world. Calico has a warped notion about what love is and was psychologically abused by her mother all her life. Calico's only friend is her horse, Ember. When her mansion burned down, Calico left her home with her horse for the first time.

Deathdream was a mutant born in Kyoto, Japan. He died four times on the day of his birth; his mutant power activating at some point along the way, and allowing him to revive himself. Months after his mother died, Deathdream's power enabled him to talk to her, and she told him the story of his arrival.

Uncanny X-Men v6 #3, 2024

----------

As a Singaporean, my only issue with Jitter's backstory is the inaccuracy of the Singaporean school where the teacher and the students speak Malay language in class. In many Singaporean schools, the people speak in different languages (though they mostly speak English) depending on their race. While most of the lessons (science, math...etc) are spoken in English, the students are taught in different languages like Chinese, Malay or Tamil on Second Language class depending on which language the child or parent chooses. If Jitter's Second Language class is taught in Malay, then the teacher would be wearing a Tudong (the Malay version of the headscarf worn by Muslims) instead of leaving her head uncovered for a Malay teacher. Also, Jitter's classmates look more Chinese instead of a mix of Malay students and Chinese students. Though the only accurate part about the Singaporean school portrayed in the comic is the competitive nature of the Singaporeans.

100 notes · View notes

uglypastels · 4 months ago

Note

Hello love!! Your #1 fan back again with another request 😋

Was wondering if you could do a Logan x Gothic reader where the reader is apart of the team but not liked all that much due to their closed off manner. Not being receptive to any sort of communication or touch with anyone. But that’s due to her not wanting to have a meltdown and hurting others. Her and Logan are in a secret relationship cause obviously they’re the same in terms of personality and past traumas. I’d love it if reader could have slight reality warping powers, so she wears gloves to keep from accidentally touching someone and hurting them.

There’s this party going on inside the mansion. Some sort of holiday or something (whatever you’d like!) but reader isn’t a huge fan of social gatherings so she goes outside, finding Logan on his bike. She talks to him about feeling bad for not trying harder to be more open but he reassures her that she didn’t need to change for anyone to like her. Especially not him. The night could end with them heading back to her room and doing who knows what lool

(You don’t have to write anything you’re not comfortable with!! Thanks again for reading tho! Take care 💚😙)

ahhh i love this. hope you like what i made of it <3

warnings: social anxiety, overstimulation (lights and sounds, get your head out of the gutter).

~ X-Men requests are Open ~ Masterlist ~

The mansion was buzzing with excitement. The school had suddenly turned into a sort of nightclub with music blasting from the speakers. The lights were swinging and crisscrossing in colourful beams. Mutants, intoxicated with excitement as well as alcohol, danced all around you, singing along to any song to come up. Before had even started, it had become too much for you. The loud noises, the smells, the lights. But you had also promised Rogue to show up and at least try to have a good time.

Well, you weren’t. No matter how hard you tried, these things just weren’t for you. Like you promised, you had stayed out on the floor for a bit. Tried to let the music move you and dance a bit, but it was so crowded. With each bump on the arm or back, you just kept getting flashes of the people’s minds. And who knows what they saw when they touched you?

It was all a waste of time. You were just being a burden on those who simply wanted to let loose and have fun.

So, as the rest partied, you slipped out. No one would miss you. The one person who maybe would wasn’t even there. Or so you thought.

‘Logan?’ you asked as you saw his silhouette shift through the corridors. He didn’t look up at the sound of his name, but it was clear he didn’t hear you above the volume of the party.

‘Logan.’ you called again, picking up your page as you went after him. Through the corridors, the main hall, out the large oaken doors. He was just sitting down on his motorcycle as you reached him. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Out to get some milk.’ He grumbled, adjusting his grip on the handles.

‘You’re kidding me.’ you scoffed, rolling your eyes at his excuse. ‘You might be an old man, but not that kind.’

‘Watch it, bub.’ He warned you with a stern glare. ‘I just… had to get away from—

‘All of that?’ you finished the sentence, ‘Yeah, I get it.’ Neither of you was the social type, and perhaps that’s what brought you together in the first place. The quiet on the outskirts of chaos drew you closer.

He must have seen the sadness on your face, as not much later, he said, ‘care to escape with me, sugar?’

And as much as you immediately want to hop on that damned motorcycle of his and run away into the sunset with him, instead, you took a step back, wrapping your bare arms over yourself. ‘I— I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lo.’ You nearly whispered. ‘What if I accidentally give you some kind of vision and you drive us off a cliff.’

‘Give me some credit, sweets.’ He chuckled. ‘I can drive a bike.’

‘Even when,’ you gently touched his forearm, ‘the road looks like this.’ For a moment, the driveway of the mansion turned into a sunny beach in front of your eyes. Logan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. You knew it wouldn’t do any good, but you let go of him and shut the hallucination off.

Most of the time, you could control your powers, but it was still something you had to learn. The quirks and kinks were hard to get out. For example, make sure you don’t accidentally give people hallucinations when you come into contact with them.

‘We should get out there sometime,’ Logan said. You looked up at him in confusion as to what he meant, and so he clarified. ‘To the beach. For a getaway. Just you and me. What’ya say, hun.’

‘You’d want to go to the beach? With me?’ never had you expected Logan to suggest something like that. You tried to imagine him in a pair of swimming shorts, sun-kissed skin and water dripping— you blinked quickly, erasing the images from your mind before they’d take over. Still, even if it was a joke, the idea of Logan taking you away for a holiday filled your body with fluttering butterflies.

Logan huffed out a smile as he got off his motorbike. ‘I’d take you anywhere you’d like.’ His hand found its way around your waist, and he pulled you closer. ‘Just say the word, sugar, and hop on.’

Your mind immediately went into a mode of protest, apprehension and fear taking over, but he silenced all of that with a kiss. When he held and touched you, all the voices and lights went quiet. It was just you and him.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

#logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #x-men fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #imagine #request #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine #wolverine fanfic #x men #x men fanfiction

120 notes · View notes

dark-night-hero · 2 months ago

Text

You hate Kayden Break. He who is arrogant, full of pride, narcissistic bastard who doesn't know his place. He who wreak havoc of anyone who gets in his way. "The fuck is your problem?!" "The fuck you mean my problem?! I was minding my onw fucking business and you just hit me with your fucking divine whatever judgement your pulling off you bastard!" You shout right back at him with a glare, he was just as messed up and beat up as you. Serves him right! He better eat some shit and die!

You hate Kayden Break. He how made you stay up all night, empty wine glass in hand, gift long forgotten in the trashcan. Quietly staring at the clock as three days have gone by with no signs of him ever showing up. Setting the wine glass on the table, you reach out for the whole bottle of wine before chugging it down. You don't know if you should be hate yourself for thinking he would show up or hate him for making promises he couldn't keep.

You hate Kayden Break. "What the fuck was that?!" "What the fuck was what?" "The letter!" "Letter what letter?" "Kayden, do you take me as a fool?! People- the awakened one were laughing at me! Since when did you and Gestella have a thing?!" "Me and who- oh. Well, we did meet up once-" "So there was something really going on between the two of you!" "Why are you so mad? It's not like... you know what. I'm tired. I'm leaving." "Kayden." "Kayden!" "Kayden walk out of that door and were done!" He left through the window.

You hate Kayden Break. He who was too prideful to say sorry. Thinking everything could be resolve with some make up sex. Like everything would would be alright after some kisses. Sure kiss it better. But as you find yourself alone in the morning with no one by your side. You find yourself crying on yourside of the best cradling yourself back to sleep.

You hate Kayden Break. The selfish fucker who left no words upon disappearing. Leaving you all alone with uncertainty. Sure the two of you pften fought all the time, sure your last conversation may not have been the best and wasn't left on good terms, but damn it all. If he love you, if he loved you even just a little bit. Would it hurt him to tell you, to give you any idea if he was still alive out there?

You hate Kayden Break. He was a battle maniac, he has some loose crews in his head. He trashtalk a lot, he has this stupid habits of pissing off his enemy before the fight. He doesn't know how to take care of himself. Your relationship with him was not the best. It hurts. You hate how he loves to drive more into the thrill of the fight than to make sure he survived.

But you love Kayden Break. "Babe." "What?" "Remember when we first met?" "..." "I was so fucking mad back then but looking back, it was find of funny. Also, have I every told you-" you cut of as a pair of arm warped around you from behind. The way you felt his lips presses upon your shoulder into the back of your neck. "Hey, babe. That tickles." You knew it was his own way of saying sorry as he kisses his marks, those thunderbolt marks you sustained from your first encounter. "I'm alright babe."

But you love Kayden Break. The way you groan and was about to shift in your position when you realise someone was carrying you. The slight panicked but upon smelling a familiar scent, a rush of anger came up nevertheless you remained unmoving in his arms. His gentle steps echoing inside the mansion as he navigate his way into your room, all while princess carrying you. Setting you down on the bed before tucking you in. You felt his soft lips pressed upon your forehead. "Sorry I'm late." Damn it, you're supposed to be mad.

But you love Kayden Break. "What were you thinking ambushing her like that?!" "What?! What am I supposed to do? I ask her for a fight." "I- ah- hah!" You don't know if you should laugh or cry. Should you be glad to know that this man ain't that oblivious when it comes to you? "Kayden- babe. If Gestella comes after you, I won't lend a hand." "Wouldn't have it any other way." "Maybe I should join hands with her and beat up your sorry ass."

But you love Kayden Break. The way your entire body turned stiff before trying to relax as best as you can in a natural way as possible when the weight of the bed shifted. The way you you laid there unmoving with silent tears rolling down your cheeks before you felt him move closer towards you and soon after, an arm warped around your waist, pulling you close into his bare chest. The way his hand eventually made its way into your shaking shoulder and held it firm yet gently. "I know I don't deserve you." Thoss words eere beyond whisper. "I'm sorry."

But you love Kayden Break. "Stop laughing." "Haha- ehem.. pffff alright babe, I'm sorry." You cannot help but to look away only to burst out laughing upon seeing his current form, his disciple breaking into cold sweat as his mentor looks like he was ready to kill you in his fat form only to be in shock when his mentor ended up resting on your lap. "He's quite handful, isn't he?" You asked his disciple with a laugh. Petting the chunky orange cat on your lap.

But you love Kayden Break. No matter how much of a bastard he was. No matter how arrogant and annoying he had become. You love him and will continue to do so. "Kayden." "Doll." He gave you a smile, that damn crazy smile whenever he's feeling the thrill of fighting. "Come back to me alive and well." "Didn't I always come back to you?" This time there was a sly smirk in his face. Nevertheless there is this feeling of unease within you chest. "Hey, look at me." Before you knew it, he was within eye level as he lean down to look at you eye to eye. "I'll come back. Okay?" "... alright" "Good, now sit down and watch this shitshow I'm about to make." "..." "Kayden." "Doll?" "Please be careful."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

:it's a tough week, Kayden Break girlies/lovers out there. Trust me.

#dark night hero #eleceed fanfic #eleceed x reader #eleceed kayden #eleceed #eleceed x you #eleceed imagine #eleceed angst #eleceed imagines #eleceed kayden break #kayden break x reader #kayden x reader #kayden break #kayden imagine #kayden break imagine #kayden break angst #kayden angst #kayden x you #kayden break x you

65 notes · View notes

seanpultz · 4 months ago

Text

If the Ghostbusters visited The Haunted Mansion

As the four of them stood before the looming Dutch Gothic Revival mansion, the cool evening air whispered through the ancient trees that surrounded the property. The moon cast eerie shadows across the intricate carvings of the building's façade, giving it a sinister countenance that matched the tales of the paranormal activities rumored to dwell within. Dr. Egon Spengler, with his usual air of skepticism, spoke first. "Ray, are you sure we're in the right place?" he asked, glancing at the GPS device in his hand. Dr. Raymond "Ray" Stantz, ever the enthusiast, nodded confidently. "Positive, Egon. The PKE readings are off the charts here." Dr. Peter Venkman, the charismatic leader of the group, leaned against his proton pack with a smirk. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go see if we can't catch a ghost!" Dr. Winston Zeddemore, the stoic and pragmatic fourth member, took a deep breath. "Alright, let's get to work," he said, adjusting his gear. The Ghostbusters approached the mansion, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the quiet night, ready to face whatever spectral beings awaited them inside.

The quartet of Ghostbusters ascended the grand stone steps leading to the mansion's imposing entrance, their boots clicking against the cold cobblestone path. The heavy oak door creaked open, revealing a pair of somber maids and butlers dressed in attire that seemed to have been plucked straight from the 19th century. They silently beckoned the Ghostbusters inside with a ghostly wave of their hands. As they stepped into the foyer, the flickering candlelight danced across the walls, illuminating the rich tapestries and dark wood that filled the space. Their eyes were drawn to the large portrait hanging above the roaring fireplace – it depicted a stern gentleman with piercing eyes and a well-groomed mustache. Yet, as they approached, the painting began to warp and shift, the man's features morphing into a grisly visage of decay.

"When hinges creak in doorless chambers, and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls. Whenever candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still — that is the time when ghosts are present, practicing their terror with ghoulish delight!"

The Ghostbusters exchanged wary glances as they were guided into the octagonal portrait gallery, the atmosphere thickening with anticipation. The wall behind them slid shut with a thud, sealing them in the dimly lit space. The flickering light from the candelabras lining the walls cast a macabre glow on the faces of the stern figures in the paintings, making their expressions seem to shift and twist as if alive. Suddenly, a chilling voice resonated through the chamber, sending a shiver down their spines. "Welcome, foolish mortals," it intoned, "to the Haunted Mansion. I am your host, your ghost host. Our tour begins here in this gallery." The portrait of the stern gentleman from the foyer now spoke to them, his eyes following their every move. "Here, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state," the Ghost Host continued, his tone a mix of amusement and menace. "Kindly step all the way in, please, and make room for everyone. There’s no turning back now." The floor beneath them trembled, and the portraits' eyes grew wider, the figures appearing more animate with each passing moment. The Ghostbusters steeled themselves, proton packs at the ready, as the air grew colder and the whispers of the long-departed grew louder.

“Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding, almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis. Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination, hmm…?”

The Ghostbusters' eyes darted up to the four elongating portraits, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief. "Well, this is definitely not your run-of-the-mill spectral activity," Venkman quipped, trying to keep his cool. The bearded man in the portrait looked as though he had been caught in a tragicomedy, his grin frozen in a moment of absurd terror. The young woman's serene composure on the tightrope was unnerving, her eyes locked onto theirs as if she knew they were watching. Constance Hatchaway's portrait was a gruesome sight, her eyes following them around the room as though judging their every move. The man on the mustached gentleman in the quicksand portrait's face was a twisted mask of desperation. The air grew colder, the whispers grew louder, and the floorboards beneath them began to groan as if the house itself were alive.

“…And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows, and no doors… which offers you this chilling challenge: to find a way out! Of course, there's always my way…”

With a dramatic flourish, the lights in the portrait gallery abruptly winked out, plunging the Ghostbusters into a blackness so absolute that it seemed to press down on them. A cacophony of thunder rumbled through the mansion, the sound of the storm outside now trapped within the very walls that threatened to close in. The sudden flash of lightning illuminated the grinning skull of the Ghost Host hanging from a noose in the cupola high above, his lifeless eyes seemingly peering into their very souls. The sound of bones shattering echoed through the darkness, sending a collective shiver through the group. "Egon, what's the plan?" Winston's voice was steady despite the horror unfolding around them. "We need to find the source of this disturbance and contain it," Egon responded, his voice a beacon of calm amidst the chaos. The four Ghostbusters huddled together, their proton packs humming in the darkness, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"Oh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely. The real chills come later. Now, as they say, 'look alive," and we’ll continue our little tour. And let’s all stay together, please."

As the thunder subsided, a previously unnoticed section of the portrait gallery wall glided open, revealing a hidden corridor shrouded in darkness. The Ghost Host's cackle echoed through the passageway, beckoning them deeper into the mansion's bowels. The Ghostbusters, their proton packs glowing like neon beacons in the gloom, cautiously moved forward. The walls of the corridor were adorned with more portraits, each one seemingly more disturbing than the last. As they ventured further, the floorboards creaked in protest, the air grew colder, and the whispers grew more insistent. They could feel the malevolent presence of the spirits trapped within the paintings, their eyes burning into the backs of their heads. "Remember," Egon reminded them, his voice a low murmur, "we're not here to fight them all. We need to find the epicenter of the haunting." The corridor grew narrower, the walls closing in, and the portraits' eyes seemed to follow their every step. Then, without warning, the floor gave way, sending the Ghostbusters tumbling into the abyss below.

The Ghost Host's laughter faded as the Ghostbusters picked themselves up from the dusty floor, now standing in a dimly lit loading area. The air was thick with anticipation and a hint of mechanized scent.

"And now, a carriage approaches to carry you into the boundless realm of the supernatural. Once on board, remain safely seated with your hands, arms, feet, and legs inside. "

The Ghost Host's lowered the safety bars of the Doom Buggies lowered with a metallic clank. He recited his scripted warnings with a sinister smile, the candelabrum above casting a flickering light that played upon his shadowy features. The Ghostbusters, now seated in the spooky vehicles, couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease as the carts began to move, gliding effortlessly through the mansion's secrets. The portrait corridor stretched ahead, a silent witness to the horrors they had yet to uncover. Each flash of lightning outside transformed the mundane into the macabre, revealing the true, twisted nature of the artworks. The demure young woman's hair morphed into a writhing nest of serpents, the majestic ship was torn apart by the tempestuous sea, the man's opulent attire shredded to expose his skeletal fate, and the lady of the house transformed into a snarling were-tiger. The air grew heavier with each grim revelation, the very fabric of reality seeming to warp around them. Yet, they remained steadfast, their eyes fixed on the grim tableau before them, ready to face whatever the Haunted Mansion had in store.

"Oh yes, and no flash pictures, please. We spirits are frightfully sensitive to bright lights."

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies rolled under an archway adorned with cobwebs and dusty chandeliers, entering a library that seemed to have been frozen in time. The eerie silence was broken only by the rustle of pages and the occasional clatter of a book falling from its shelf. The room was a labyrinth of towering bookcases, their shelves groaning under the weight of tomes that hadn't seen the light of day in centuries. The busts of long-dead scholars stared down at them with vacant eyes, seemingly aware of the intrusion. The sight of a ghostly librarian, floating on a ladder that moved of its own accord, sent a chill down their spines. Meanwhile, a rocking chair in the corner swayed to the rhythm of an unseen occupant, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows across the pages of an ancient tome. The scent of aged paper and dust filled their nostrils as they moved through the spectral scene, the whispers of the trapped spirits echoing through the vast space. They knew they were getting closer to the heart of the haunting, and their anticipation grew with each passing moment.

"Our library is well-stocked with priceless first editions — only ghost stories, of course — and marble busts of the greatest ghost writers the literary world has ever known."

The Doom Buggies rolled into the next chamber, revealing a once-elegant music room. A ghostly figure in a tattered tuxedo sat at a dusty grand piano, its ivory keys yellowed with age. The shadowy musician's spectral fingers danced over the keys, playing a mournful melody that resonated through the room. Behind the piano, a window looked out onto a tempestuous forest, lightning illuminating the twisted branches that clawed at the glass. The stormy scene was so lifelike that it was hard to discern if it was a painting or a window to another realm.

"They have all retired here, to the Haunted Mansion. Actually, we have 999 happy haunts here. But there’s room for 1,000. Any volunteers?"

The Doom Buggies ascended into a realm where gravity seemed to have abandoned all sense, entering a room that mirrored the mind-bending art of M.C. Escher. The staircases twisted and turned in impossible angles, leading to nowhere and everywhere at once. The Ghostbusters clung to the bars of their carts as the world around them tilted and spun. The cacophony of echoing footsteps grew louder, the glow of green light grew stronger, and suddenly, the stomping ceased.

"If you should decide to join us, final arrangements may be made at the end of the tour."

They found themselves in a hallway lined with thousands of blinking eyes, the pupils dilating and contracting in a hypnotic rhythm. The wallpaper around the eyes began to shift, revealing the grimacing faces of demons, leering and laughing at their disorientation. The room grew colder, the laughter grew more malevolent, and the Ghostbusters knew they had entered the domain of the Haunted Mansion's most powerful and disturbed spirits.

"We find it delightfully unlivable here in this ghostly retreat. Every room has wall-to-wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills. Shhh, listen!"

The Ghostbusters rounded a corner and came face to face with a living suit of armor, its visor gleaming in the candlelight. The chair in the corner of the room had a hidden abstract face, embroidered into the fabric with such craftsmanship that it seemed to leer at them. The most unsettling sight, however, was the long, narrow corridor that stretched down the center of the parlor. A candelabrum floated eerily down the hallway, casting grotesque shadows on the walls that danced and stretched like the elongated figures in the portrait gallery. "Wow, talk about a blast from the past," Ray whispered in amazement, his eyes wide with wonder. "These are some serious poltergeist pranks."

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies made an unexpected twist, spinning them around to face the conservatory. The room was a ghastly sight, adorned with lifeless bouquets and a pervasive aura of decay. At the center of this floral tomb, a glass room stood out, showcasing a morbid tableau. The sight of the coffin with its lid pried open by skeletal hands sent a shiver down their spines. The desperate cries of the trapped soul within filled the air, a haunting plea for freedom. "Egon, what do we do?" Winston's voice was tight with tension. "We need to keep moving," Egon replied, his eyes never leaving the coffin. "The source of the haunting is stronger now. We're getting closer." The raven, seemingly unfazed by the chaos, cawed mournfully, adding to the symphony of the supernatural. The Ghostbusters' proton packs grew heavier with each step, the weight of their mission pressing upon them as they moved through the room, surrounded by the lifeless beauty of the conservatory. The cries grew louder, more insistent, and the green glow from the coffin grew brighter, pulsing with a sinister energy that seemed to call out to them. They knew they had to act fast before the situation spun even further out of control.

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies emerged from the conservatory and into the shadowy corridor, the portraits of the once-noble family now grotesque and decayed. The eerie sound of unseen doors rattling and the disembodied knocking of ghostly fists sent a chill through their bones. The air grew thick with the scent of decay and the cacophony of whispers grew to a crescendo, as if the very walls were alive with the tormented spirits of the mansion's past. To their left, the portrait of the Ghost Host grinned morbidly, his noose tightening around his neck in a silent taunt. The door beside it appeared to breathe in and out, the wood swelling and shrinking as if alive. The two demonic reliefs on the walls seemed to leer at them, one with a malicious smile, the other snarling with malevolent intent. The corridor grew more claustrophobic with each step, the weight of the unseen eyes upon them unbearable. They approached the end of the hall, where the skeletal hands of the trapped spirit fought against the sealed door, the emerald glow of spectral energy pulsing from within. The grandfather clock chimed out the thirteenth hour, its pendulum swinging erratically, the shadow of a monstrous claw racing across its face. The Ghostbusters knew that beyond this door lay the heart of the haunting, and the fate of the 999 souls trapped within the Haunted Mansion. They tightened their grips on their proton packs, bracing themselves for the battle that awaited them.

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies shuddered to a halt in the séance room, the air thick with anticipation and the faint scent of incense. The walls were adorned with floating musical instruments, their strings plucking and bows moving as if played by invisible hands. At the center of the room, a round table was set with an eerie spread of arcane tools and a crystal ball, within which the disembodied head of Madame Leota bobbed menacingly. Her ghostly visage sang out the incantation, summoning the mansion's spirits to join in her macabre symphony. The instruments grew more frenzied, their tune a cacophony of discordant notes that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the room. The Ghostbusters could feel the power building around them, the air crackling with the energy of the spirits they had been sent to contain. They watched as a set of spectral hands began to materialize from the crystal, reaching out to touch the instruments, their icy fingers leaving trails of mist as they danced across the strings.

"Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat/Call in the spirits, wherever they're at./Rap on a table, it's time to respond/Send us a message from somewhere beyond./Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween/Awaken the spirits with your tambourine./Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond/Let there be music from regions beyond./Wizards and witches wherever you dwell/Give us a hint by ringing a bell."

Then the Ghost Host spoke again, "The happy haunts have received your sympathetic vibrations and are beginning to materialize. They’re assembling for a swinging wake, and they’ll be expecting me… I’ll see you all a little later."

The Ghostbusters leaned over the balcony railing, taking in the surreal scene unfolding in the grand ballroom below. The spectral soiree was a whirlwind of activity, with ghosts of all shapes and sizes moving in a ghostly masquerade to the haunting tune of "Grim Grinning Ghosts." The air was electric with the energy of the otherworldly festivities, the very essence of the mansion's haunting distilled into this one, maddening waltz. They watched as the merry ghost on the mantle gave the bust a playful wink, the elderly spirit knitting away, and the macabre duelists reenacting their eternal battle across the room. The waltzing couples floated through the air with an ethereal grace, their dance partners a testament to the mansion's grim history. The coffin from the hearse lay open, its occupant now lost in the swirling mass of spirits.

"Wow, this place is something else," Venkman murmured, his eyes darting from one spectral sight to the next.

"It's like we've stumbled into a Salvador Dali painting," Ray said, his voice filled with a mix of awe and unease.

"The energy readings are off the charts," Egon noted, his PKE meter beeping wildly in his hand. "We need to find the focal point of this haunting before it gets out of hand."

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us," Winston said, his gaze lingering on the grinning duelists.

As the Ghostbusters observed the chaotic dance below, Egon's eyes fell upon a previously unnoticed entrance to the attic. "Guys, I think we've found the source," he said, pointing upwards. The door at the top of the stairs was slightly ajar, and a sickly green light seeped through the crack. The air grew colder, the whispers grew more frantic, and the shadows cast by the flickering chandeliers grew darker and more malevolent. "We need to go up there," he continued, his voice firm with determination. The others nodded in agreement, their eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies glided into the attic, the cobweb-covered space a stark contrast to the grandeur of the ballroom. The room was a cluttered mess of forgotten relics and haunting mementoes, each object seemingly imbued with a story of love gone wrong. The wedding portraits lining the walls drew their attention immediately, the bride's serene smile a stark contrast to the horrors they had encountered so far. Yet, as they watched in morbid fascination, the grooms' heads began to vanish in a gruesome dance of shadow and sound, replaced by the grim thud of a hatchet. The air grew colder, the whispers more insistent, and the malevolence grew palpable. Then, in a corner shrouded in darkness, the bride herself materialized, floating in a tattered wedding dress. Her eyes, once filled with love, now gleamed with madness as she recited her twisted vows, the spectral weapon in her hand raising high. "We'll live happily ever after," she shrieked, the hatchet poised to strike. The Ghostbusters knew that the time for sightseeing had ended; it was time to bring peace to the tortured souls of the Haunted Mansion.

Egon and Ray huddled together, their eyes fixated on the vengeful bride. "Egon, who do you think she was?" Ray whispered, his voice tinged with fear and curiosity. Egon, his PKE meter still beeping erratically, took a moment to consider the question. "Based on the intensity of the negative energy here, she must have been someone significant to the mansion's history," he replied, his gaze never leaving the ghostly figure. "Possibly the original owner's daughter, scorned on her wedding day. The power she wields suggests a deep anger and betrayal that's been festering for centuries." The air grew colder as the bride's spectral form grew more substantial, the hatred in her eyes burning into their very souls. The other Ghostbusters tightened their grips on their proton packs, ready to stand by their comrades as they faced the most dangerous part of their mission. The whispers grew to a crescendo, the room pulsing with the energy of the trapped spirits eager to be set free. The battle for the Haunted Mansion had just begun, and the fate of the 999 souls hung in the balance.

Constance Hatchaway, the bride whose tale was one of greed and madness, grew more substantial with each passing moment. Her eyes gleamed with a malicious intent as she recounted her macabre history, her voice echoing through the dusty attic. "Welcome to my bridal suite," she cackled, gesturing to the cluttered space around her. The Ghostbusters, now fully aware of the gravity of the situation, took a step closer to each other, their proton packs humming with readiness. "You know," Venkman quipped, trying to break the tension, "it's not every day you get invited to a wedding where the bride has a better head-count than the guests." The room grew colder, and the whispers grew to a fever pitch as Constance's eyes narrowed. "You think this is a jest?" she snarled, the hatchet in her hand seemingly growing larger. "This is my sanctuary, my trophy room!" With a ghostly flourish, she raised the axe, ready to add more heads to her grisly collection. The Ghostbusters knew they had to act fast, before the spirit's rage consumed them all.

"Let's not make this a permanent engagement," Venkman quipped, as the Ghostbusters flipped open their proton packs. The room erupted in a symphony of whirring and beeping as the four men steadied their weapons, aiming at the furious bride. "Now, let's show her what we're made of," Winston murmured, his voice a low rumble of determination.

"Fire at will!" Egon called out, and the room was bathed in a cacophony of spectral light as the proton streams shot forth, weaving a dance of containment around Constance Hatchaway.

With Constance Hatchaway safely contained, the Ghostbusters let out a collective sigh of relief, their proton streams dissipating into the cold attic air. The room grew quieter as the whispers of the trapped spirits faded away, the only sound now the distant wail of the wind outside. They made their way to the Doom Buggies, which had come to a halt at the attic's exit, the ground floor calling them back to the land of the living. The caretaker, his face a mask of fear, watched them with wide eyes as they approached, his trembling dog at his side. The sight of the ghostly band, the whimsical ghosts playing their jovial tune, and the macabre tea party scene outside the window did little to ease his terror. The Ghostbusters nodded in his direction, acknowledging his plight, but their mission was not yet complete. They descended the hill, the Doom Buggies carrying them through the graveyard, the air growing colder with each passing moment. The spectral minstrels' music grew louder as they approached, the haunting melody of "Grim Grinning Ghosts" filling the air once more. The Ghostbusters' eyes scanned the scene before them, taking in the whimsical horror of the phantoms enjoying their unearthly revelry. The hearse stuck in the mud, the undead partygoers, and the bizarre quartet of singers all added to the otherworldly tapestry that was the Haunted Mansion. They knew that while these spirits were eerie, they were not the malicious force they sought.

The Ghost Host is heard once again. "Ah, there you are! And just in time… there’s a little matter I forgot to mention — beware of hitchhiking ghosts!"

The Ghostbusters' Doom Buggies rumbled through the shadowy graveyard, the cobblestone path leading them to the three large mirrors that stood sentinel beside the mansion's façade. As they approached, the reflection in the first mirror revealed an unexpected addition to their party—a dapper specter with a top hat and monocle, grinning mischievously. "Phineas," Egon murmured, recognizing the ghostly figure known as The Traveler. In the second mirror, a skeletal figure clung to the back of their cart, his rattling bones a silent greeting. "Ezra," Ray whispered, his eyes widening with excitement. And in the third, a ghostly convict with a burlap sack over his head, Gus, was now a part of their convoy.

"They have selected you to fill our quota, and they’ll haunt you until you return!"

The Ghost Host raises the safety bar. "Now I will raise the safety bar, and a ghost will follow you home!"

The Ghostbusters' hearts raced as they felt the icy grip of the hitchhiking ghosts latch onto their Doom Buggies. The Traveler in the top hat gave a courteous tip of his hat, his grin growing wider in the mirror. The skeletal Ezra waved a bony hand, and the convict, Gus, let out a muffled chuckle from within his sack. "Well, this wasn't exactly in the job description," Venkman quipped, trying to maintain his composure. The Ghostbusters' carts lurched forward, the spirits' laughter echoing through the night as they approached the mansion's entrance. They knew that their job wasn't done yet.

#ghostbusters #bill murray #dan aykroyd #harold ramis #ernie hudson #the haunted mansion #walt disney world

76 notes · View notes

obae-me · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, are you taking requests? I really like your one-shots, they really help me in learning how to write emotions. So, what about the Demon Brothers getting injured for some reason (either because Lucifer punished them, or they were attacked by some creature, got into a fight, etc.), and MC notices it, even with the Demons best attempt to hide it, and decide to take care of the injuries. At first the boys are embarrassed and reluctant to accept their help, but quickly gave up and let MC take care of them. 👉👈

Anon...this is a beautiful request. I love love love hurt/comfort, especially whump tropes like these. I will absolutely do this. 100% I will do this, no questions asked.

Although I owe you an apology because...this is another instance of mine where I take things...way too far...I should’ve known when I was almost 6000 words deep and had only briefly gone over three brothers, that I was in over my head once again...so...this is a big one...really big...well maybe not that big by fic standards, I don’t really know what the average fic holds...Anyways, enjoy!

Rest Easy. I’m Here.

Word Count: 16,038

Warnings: Blood, Broken Bones, Bruises, Vomiting, Cuts, Concussions, Injury, Medication Use. A lot of general hurt for this hurt/comfort.

(Please pay no mind to the fact that all these little picture banners are cropped slightly different sizes, consistency was never my strong suit.)

As Always, Read Safely! Please Enjoy!

“Someone get Asmo!”

“Satan, look out!”

“My lord, Mammon can't dodge forever. He’s running out of stamina.”

“Beel, don’t be stupid! Don’t be a hero, ya idiot! Beel!”

“Belphie, take him away!”

“Levi!”

“Diavolo…we’re becoming overwhelmed, you need to leave.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You are royalty, and as such, I have to – Diavolo, move!”

“Lucifer!”

“They’ve been gone for a while…” You put down your D.D.D., placing it in your lap, a sigh coming from your chest as you stared at the front door to the House of Lamentation. How long had you waited here now, a few hours? Nearly felt like days. Every taunting tick of the clock twisted a new knot in your stomach. You knew they could take care of themselves, obviously they could. Their Deadly Sin titles weren’t just for show. There was probably very little they couldn’t handle, especially when they were all together…but…then why were they still not home? The moon might be ever-constant, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t extremely late. It was beginning to stretch into the early hours of the day now.

They all had been suddenly called to meet Diavolo, Lucifer’s phone ringing at dinner, the prince summoning them immediately. Plates half-empty, they left. Now their dinner had gone cold…and so had the House. You couldn’t help but worry. It wasn’t too often all of them were needed at once, leaving you alone in this large and quiet mansion. None of them had answered your messages either, something else that was rather uncommon. Levi surely had his phone on him at all times, and Lucifer was pretty swift in responding to you as well, and despite Mammon’s fervent denial, he always leapt at his phone whenever you messaged him. But no, nothing. Just silence…Even the nocturnal critters outside appeared to abandon you, unable to hear their nightly cries.

As your head tilted back, resting against the wall of the entrance-hall, you nearly drifted off. You had been sitting there for quite a while after all. If you did fall asleep, it made time warp, only feeling like a second, or perhaps it had just been rather perfect timing. The doors swung open, cold night air rushing gusting inside, the wind outside whistling as seven demons stumbled into the house. You scrambled to your feet, almost dropping your D.D.D. you’d left in your lap. Luckily you managed to catch it, shoving it in your pocket. “Welcome back!” Suddenly, the tenseness in your shoulders seemed to lift, the lungs in your chest not as tight. You could breathe easy now.

They all looked tired, but quickly grinned as they noticed you...well a few of them did at least…actually only two of them. The others stuck to the shadows. “We’re back!” Asmo raised his arms in celebration, sounding much like normal to you, and yet…something felt…off. Maybe he was just exhausted, they had been out for hours at this point.

“Sorry...we…took so long,” Satan spoke up, speaking at a strangely slow pace. Levi, not even looking at you, scrambled up the stairs to his room before he could speak. The demon of Wrath held his arms behind his back, a stance he hardly ever took, using his body to block off your view of Envy. “We got…caught up…in Student Council work.”

“You did not need to wait for us,” Lucifer tilted his head…but even he seemed to not look at you quite as directly as he usually did. There was an odd air about him, a look in his eyes like he just remembered something he had forgotten. “It is late for us all. Let’s…get…” His voice got quieter and softer with each word. It seemed as if he was losing the energy to even form words, his head drooping ever so slightly. “...Some rest. You as well,” he addressed you, using an arm to usher his other brothers in the direction towards their rooms, some of them lowering their head from you strangely, some of them supporting the others up the stairs.

None of them said anything else, and before you could even appreciate them all being home…they were gone.

You had hoped the next morning, at breakfast, that things would return to normal. After sleeping it off, certainly the weirdness you had felt in the air would dissipate. Unfortunately…that did not seem to be the case. Most of the brothers didn’t even show up to breakfast. The only ones to arrive were Beel, Asmo, and Satan. Everyone else was gone. Asmo, with a smile over his face, tried to assure you all was well. “They’re probably still sleeping! Last night was a long night after all!”

You raised an eyebrow, a little offended that they were clearly keeping something from you, but more worried than anything. “None of you are wearing your uniforms today,” you noticed, jutting the end of your utensil towards Satan and his common clothes, finding it difficult to eat your morning meal.

Beel, after shoving a plateful in his mouth, somehow more voracious than usual, licked his lips and nodded his head at you comfortingly. “Diavolo gave us the day off.”

“You can still head to classes though,” Satan chimed in. You noticed he was only using one arm to eat breakfast today. It was an odd detail to notice, but one you spotted nonetheless as he struggled to cut this morning’s pancakes. He always used a knife and a fork like a proper person, always getting irritated when someone else like Mammon would wedge the fork back-and-forth, tearing off the pieces and shoving it into his mouth. Now Satan was doing the very thing he ridiculed others for.

Suddenly settling your utensils down, you straightened your back. “I think I’ll stay home too.”

Each of the brothers looked at each other, flickering secret messages between them with only their eyes. Satan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, subtly wincing as he shrugged his shoulders. The next thing he said was the final nail in the coffin. Hell had frozen over today apparently. Either that or something was terribly, dreadfully wrong. “I don’t think Lucifer would like that very much.”

“You never care what Lucifer thinks!” You suddenly shouted, a sick feeling in your stomach, your insides doing flips with anxiety. “What’s wrong with you all?”

Apparently you surprised them all with your outburst more than you intended to. Beel suddenly started coughing, bending over in his seat. You stood up quickly, afraid he had started to choke, but Asmo beat you, making it to his little brother’s side in a rush. “Breathe, Beel, breathe…Eat slower, you can’t handle going too fast right now.” You could hear the faint wheeze in Beel’s voice, the pain in his lungs obvious, his arms hugging his own body. And yet, they still wouldn’t tell you. Not even when it was so abhorrently obvious that something had happened last night. The brother’s voices sounded muffled to your ears now, the stress fogging your senses. You faintly recalled Satan going up to take Beel to his room, Asmo the only one left. The demon of Lust cleared up the plates, doing so hoping you wouldn’t notice the way he gripped the tops of the chairs, guiding himself back to the kitchen with a hand pressed against the wall, limping.

You had intended to remain steadfast in your stubbornness. If they weren’t going to go to classes, why should you? After all, you had stayed up almost all night, restless with worry. However, any dreams you had of staying home were dashed as the haunting doorbell to the House rang. None of the brothers were likely to answer it, and if it was a package or something of that nature, someone should probably grab it for them. Although, you knew well in the back of your mind that hardly any mail was delivered this early in the day. The idea of a package was better than more bad-news, you figured. You shuffled your way out of the dining room, rather downtrodden, opening the front door without preparing yourself to look a little less depressed.

“MC?” You weren’t expecting to hear your name spoken by a voice so familiar. Taking a few blinks, you brought yourself out of the little slump you were in. “Is everything alright?” Simeon frowned, taking another step closer to the entrance.

You had to quickly grin, although you knew it came off rather weak. “Just didn’t sleep a lot last night. What are you doing here?”

A little figure jumped out from behind Simeon, almost like it was meant to surprise you. “We’re here to go to RAD together!” Luke beamed. He seemed so pleased, absolutely beside himself with joy at even just this simple thing. How did he never realize why everyone called him cute?

The third figure outside nodded, waving at you in greeting. “Imagine our surprise when, out of the blue, all of us receive a text from Lucifer of all people, telling us to bring you to RAD.” Solomon looked quite pleased with himself. Although, that only made you feel warier. So none of them knew what was going on either?

Simeon was the only one who seemed to share your confusion. “It’s not everyday that he asks for favors.”

“It didn’t seem like a favor to me,” Luke scowled, unfortunately coming off more like a pout than anything. He folded his arms. “It was practically an order.”

“Regardless of the reason,” Solomon waved his hand through the air, moving away from the brothers as the topic at hand. “Are you all ready to go?” He looked at you with a glint in his eye. That feeling in your gut still remained, but was slightly lessened. At the very least, the members of Purgatory Hall were as they usually were. Any form of normality you could get was gladly accepted. You nodded, taking a step forward and shutting the door of the House behind you.

Simeon outstretched a hand towards you, perhaps sensing that you were feeling a bit down. You took it, feeling the warmth in his palms spread over you like a comforting blanket. Was it angelic magic or just simply his presence that calmed you so? “Don’t worry,” the angel attempted to assuage your anxiety. “If it were something threatening, Diavolo would certainly tell you about it, wouldn’t he?”

Based on his track record…not really. Not as quickly as you would like him to anyway. Mysteries and riddles and royal duty be damned. You’d have to talk to the prince.

You were one second away from knocking on the door to the student council office before it opened for you. Barbatos welcomed you with a calming grin, lowering his head in a little respectful bow as you stepped into the room. “We’ve been expecting you.” As the door shut behind you, you felt your shoulder gently touched by the butler’s gloved hand. He wasn’t often one to express emotion, or perhaps you’d gotten to know him well enough to tell that the slight lift to his brows was one of sympathy. “I’ve already prepared some tea as well as Devarian Cream Eclairs.” In a blink, he was over by a little table, pulling a seat out for you as Diavolo remained seated on the other side, waving you over with a grin, although even from here you could notice that his usual dazzling and thrilled smile was subdued.

“You knew I was coming?” You took a few tentative steps before settling yourself in the chair, your hands rubbing themselves anxiously in your lap.

Diavolo was the one who spoke up this time, nodding a bit as the corners of his mouth tugged downwards. “If I know my student council, you probably have many questions regarding last night, don’t you?”

Your mouth felt a bit dry, and so you picked up the little teacup, smelling the sweet aroma before taking a little sip. “They didn’t tell me anything…” The teacup made a gentle noise as it settled back down on the table. You turned your head up at the prince, a pleading look in your eyes. You may not have had a pact with him and he might’ve been royalty while you were just a human, but you were hoping that the person sitting in front of you was not just the Demon Lord but Diavolo, your, dare you say, friend. Surely, he would answer your honest question. “Will you tell me what happened?”

There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he spoke, and while Barbatos was naturally quiet, there was an eerie sort of silence about him, one that was abnormally noticeable. Diavolo paused but then explained everything to you. Apparently, every few millennia, an ancient Devildom Beast rises from its deep hibernation to feast. Left unchecked, it can go on a rampage, causing needless destruction and chaos. It typically follows a very regular schedule, the brothers and Diavolo able to create a plan and barrier to keep the monster away from civilization. However, without any warning, it suddenly arose, centuries early. No one could figure out why, and deep in your soul you wondered if this was somehow your fault. Strange things always happened when you were around, after all. Although, you knew it was rather silly to blame yourself for something like this. “Without any preparation, we were all forced to subdue it ourselves…and refusing it to feed naturally made it quite aggressive. There were…casualties…Forgive me.”

Barbatos finally took a breath, shuffling a little closer to the prince. “Young Master–”

“I will take the blame for this,” Diavolo, despite the guilt, raised his head proudly. “It was under my orders that this happened. And it was because I was there that–” He cut himself off as the words caught in his throat, something the prince was not known for. He couldn’t seem to finish his statement, but you could connect the dots. Here he was, hardly a hair out of place like usual. He had been protected. You knew the others, especially Lucifer, would do whatever it took to keep Diavolo safe. Before you really knew you were doing it, your body urged itself out of your seat, wrapping your arms against Diavolo’s body. You heard Barbatos take a sharp intake of air before letting it out in a gentle sigh. Normally, such actions like these towards the prince would’ve been unheard of, perhaps punishable even. You didn’t often like to think you were being given special treatment, but in this case, you were glad you were able to do something like give Diavolo this little embrace. You felt him chuckle, the power of his lungs rattling your ribs. He took your arms and lowered them, the smile back on his face, although perhaps a bit embarrassed that someone such as he needed an action as common as a hug to make him feel better. “I was hoping you would come see me, seeing as I have a favor to ask of you.”

“A favor?”

With a little nod, he glanced at Barbatos who helped you back to your seat, the butler’s hand settled on the back of your neck for just a moment, his subtle version of a thank-you. The prince cleared his throat, looking at you seriously. “I’d like you to help care for the brothers till they are back in good health. Knowing them, they’ll hide away from any of us till they are back to normal. Lucifer might be Pride, but it seems as if the stubbornness runs through all their veins. But you…they have a soft spot for you, even Lucifer.” There was a flicker of jealousy behind Diavolo’s eyes. Yes, they were close, but Lucifer’s respect would always hinge that tiny social barrier between them. “Besides, they might heal quicker with you by their side, and that’s beneficial for everyone involved. I know…it might be a lot to ask, but would you be willing to do this for me?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “After everything we’ve all already gone through, do you even need to ask?” How many times had you been the one to clean up a mess caused by some magical or mischievous misfortune? And almost always, you were the only one unaffected by it all, always waiting for the others to return to normal. “I had planned on doing that anyway.”

He closed his eyes as he sighed. “I had a feeling, but I never like to assume. I’m glad, though... If there’s anything Barbatos and I can do to assist you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“There is one thing,” you brought up, making the prince raise an eyebrow. “Can Barbatos make me a portal home?” Learning all this information suddenly made you feel antsy, practically itching to be back in the House’s familiar halls. “I feel like I’ve already been away from them long enough. I want to be there for them now.”

Out of everyone, you figured Asmo would be the least likely to turn you away. He loved being pampered, and he seemed perhaps the most normal of the bunch. Besides, he might be willing to shed some more light on what happened to the others…and the severity of their injuries. You tried not to let the silence of the house overwhelm you as you prepared a little tray to take to Asmo. You filled it with lots of helpful but adorable things. A little yogurt cup with glistening and juicy fruits, an herbal tea that Barbatos recommended that was a rosy pink, a little vial of Devildom Medicine that you put a few stickers on in an attempt to make it ‘aesthetic’, and a few other things you just grabbed since you had no idea what Asmo was going through. Tray settled against your hip, you knocked on Asmo’s door.

There was silence for a moment, but then a whine on the other end. “Whaaat? I’m trying to recover as much as you all are too, you know! Don’t make me get up.”

It was clear to you that he assumed you were one of his brothers. You suddenly showing up might not be as thrilling of a surprise as you had thought it would be. “I can come in if you’d like.”

Clattering could be suddenly heard from inside, a whimper of pain was made before the door swung open vivaciously, Asmo, wearing a silky nightgown, was leaning against the doorframe with one leg tucked behind the other. “MC, hun! What’re you doing home?” His eyes flashed down to the tray you were carrying. His smile faded, his bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. “Ah…Who told you?”

“Diavolo.” You snuck past him in his room, settling the tray on the end of his bed. “He didn’t tell me absolutely everything though.” You suddenly turned around a hand on your hip. “What’s wrong with you? Out with it?” I sound too much like Lucifer, you thought to yourself.

Much like you were expecting, Asmo gave in almost instantly, his eyes turning glossy with tears. He shut the door and moved away from the doorframe, one of his feet curled away from the ground. As you looked at his left leg, you noticed that from the knee all the way down, Asmo’s skin was covered in bruises, the tone to his complexion a different blend of purple, yellow, black, and even red. It was swollen. “It hurts…” The little crack in his voice broke your heart. You came over to him, offering your support as he settled an arm around your shoulders. You helped him limp back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his neck.

“Why didn’t any of you tell me?” You shook your head a bit, looking down with a mixture of concern and disappointment.

“And have you look at me this way?” A tear slid from the corner of his eye. You unconsciously brushed it away, his face leaning into your touch. “Just look at it…it’s hideous! I never wanted you to ever see me this way…”

“Asmo…injuries happen.” You traced little hearts into his shoulder before you stood, getting to work. Grabbing some throw pillows from various pieces of furniture, you brought them next to his injured leg. “Can you lift it?” With a wince, he grabbed at his left thigh, lifting up his leg enough for you to place the pillows under. With a little flourish, you covered him with a blanket. “I brought you medicine. Barbatos said this kind should help with the pain. I also made you a little snack. You need to be well fed and rested. Do you want me to grab you some ice-packs?”

The ever-usual confident Asmo appeared a bit meek at the treatment. “Yes…please. I tried going back downstairs for them but…”

“No more getting out of bed,” you demanded. “You’ll just make it worse.” With a few steps, you moved over to the nightstand, grabbing the tray and settling it right next to Asmo. One of your hands brushed Asmo’s hair from his face. “I’ll be right back.” Some pink flared in his cheeks at your stern orders, but he didn’t stop you from rushing downstairs to try to find something to ice his leg with. Unfortunately, if the House did have ice-packs, they weren’t in the freezer. So, desperate measures called for frozen vegetables. You found a little hand towel in the kitchen, wrapping the pack up in that before heading back upstairs. You were pleased to find that he was in the middle of eating his snack with a little grin on his face.

“MC…you’re so precious,” he praised you, almost purring at the mere sight of you. “You’ll be my nurse till I’m all better, right?” It was his best attempt at sounding like usual, but even the flirtatiousness of it was muted. He simply sounded exhausted. He settled down the little bowl as his arms outstretched towards you, waiting for you to come over and hug him. You placed yourself against his hip on the bed, letting him wrap his arms around you. His nose settled against the base of your neck, practically absorbing your affection as additional sustenance. Who knows? Maybe it did work that way for demons. Maybe they quite literally sucked the life out of you. Maybe that’s why Diavolo seemed to think they’d heal faster with you around. Little parasites…You parted from him after a while, holding the cold pack in your hands.

“I’m going to place this on you. Are you ready?” You waited till he nodded before you settled the weight on his injured leg, covering his ankle and the better part of his calf. He winced, but after a minute, seemed a bit more relieved. You took this moment to curl up at his side, stroking his hair, watching the more strained and exhausted lines in his face fade. “Will you tell me more about what happened? I want to take care of all of you the best that I can, but I can’t do that if I don’t know anything.”

“It all happened so fast…” He tried to snuggle into you without moving too much. “We were all just fighting to calm it down, but I got knocked out of the air and…it trampled my leg. I don’t remember the last time I felt so much pain. But, even so, I think I got away the luckiest…” Your poor boys…You knew that…as a human, you would’ve been little to no help in such a situation like that anyway, but still, you felt a little guilty that you weren’t there in the moment to try to help them. “I don’t know what happened to everyone, it’s still all a blur. I blacked out for a bit…but I think Satan has a broken arm. Maybe he knows more than I do.”

“Really?” Your gasp almost sounded breathless. “What do demons usually do for broken bones?”

Asmo slowly shook his head. “We don’t need much. I’m sure he’s already got it wrapped up. It should only take a few days to go back to normal. He’s probably upset that he can’t read his books very well, though.” After talking for so long, he whined a bit, trying to pull you closer. “It’s so cold…”

You moved your arm to shift the ice-pack to a different part of his injured leg, letting him hold you so he could absorb your body warmth. “You should take that medicine soon and then get some rest,” you encouraged. “Sleep is often the most important step to recovery.” Asmo simply made a little whine, vocalizing his disappointment but unable to disagree. At the risk of never being able to leave his room again, you planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll have my D.D.D. on me, so if you need anything else, just call or message me.” You tucked the blanket tighter around him, guiding his arms away from you and down to the bed. Despite him usually distressing over his hair, he smiled when a few of your fingers brushed through the strands atop his head, his eyelids flickering, like even such a simple gesture was coaxing him to rest. “Meds then beds, Asmo,” you repeated once more, watching him blush at the childish-sounding mantra. You got to your feet, making sure the lights in the room were dim. “I’ll be back to check on you later…Feel better.”

You watched him blow you a kiss before you left, heading in the direction of Satan’s room.

Satan would be a risky one. You had no way of knowing if his injuries would keep him from being angry or if they would make him even angrier. Not to mention he’s not the most vulnerable of the brothers. He had already tried to hide his broken arm from you –although rather poorly. However, at breakfast, he did seem rather calm about everything. Even breaking character and telling you to go to classes just to keep Lucifer in a good mood. Definitely not like Satan. Which either meant Wrath’s injuries were bothering him so much, he couldn’t even be angry towards Lucifer…or…what if Lucifer had been hurt enough to…No. He didn’t seem that bad when he addressed you in the entrance hall. Lucifer had almost seemed normal. There was no way Satan would worry about his older brother over mild wounds.

Ah, but thinking about this was keeping you from what you should actually be doing, which was action! You might’ve been stalling a little bit, worried that as soon as you knocked on Satan’s door, his demon form would rush through. Fortune favors the bold, you recited in your head, hoping it would work as a spell of sorts. You knocked on Satan’s door, only just now realizing that you didn’t prepare or bring anything with you like you had done for Asmo. Although, maybe it was for the best. If you had come in with armfuls of stuff you thought he would need, trying to fuss over him, it would probably irritate him. He’d just have to tell you what he needed himself.

There was no answer. Should you head in yourself?...No, that might be a death sentence. Should you announce yourself? But then would he even open the door if he knew it was you? He’d probably just shout back ‘there’s nothing to worry about’ or even ‘do you think I’m incapable of taking care of myself’. So you knocked once more, remaining quiet, trying to strain your ears to see if you could hear even just the faintest of pages moving. Of course, just as you were pressing your ear up against the door, the entire thing rattled. Even the doorframe shuddered. “Go away!”

Well…so much for your hopes of him not being angry. What did you really expect? His title was Wrath. You shuffled on your feet for a moment, lingering by the door. Knocking a third time might set him off…maybe you should say it was you right as you opened the door. Or maybe–

“I can still hear you!” The voice in his chest rumbled, a strong aura approaching rapidly from the other side. “I swear to Diavolo, whoever it is better be gone in five seconds before I teach you what it means to –” The door opened so violently, the air almost sucked you forward.

You jumped back, already giving your apologies. “Don’t be mad! I came back home because I heard what happened, and I already checked on Asmo and he told me that you got hurt and that I should check on you, and –”

“MC?” The aura of fury mostly faded, the door partially shutting again as you assumed Satan was trying to hide the injured arm behind the wood. “What’re you doing at home? We told you to go to classes!”

“I said don’t be mad!”

Satan took a deep breath, a little glare staring at you from through the crack in the open door. “You said that Asmo told you what happened?” Well, technically Diavolo was the first one to tell you, Asmo giving more details but…now was not the time to argue over semantics. “And he told you to come check on me?” You nodded, thinking naively that maybe Satan would be touched that his brother was concerned about him. Instead, a darkness clouded his eyes, the door opening once more, only this time, Satan stormed out, fully intent on marching down the hall, probably to give Asmo his personal feelings on the matter.

Without thinking about it, you grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling on it with as much strength as a human could muster. “Stop! He’s hurt enough already! I just put him to bed! If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at me!”

Satan’s feet stopped, of his own free will obviously, seeing as you were probably not impeding his progress as much as you were hoping. You stood your ground, although a little bit shakily, and your eyes finally noticed his arm. He, as you and Asmo both expected, had already treated it to the best of his abilities. It was wrapped in bandages that even you could tell were soaked in something magical, and it was resting in a makeshift sling he had seemingly made out of one of his pillowcases. It had several different adorable cats on it, which was a strange contrast to the furious look he was giving you. “First you scream at me to not be mad, and now you’re telling me to direct my wrath towards you instead of Asmo? Which is it?! Pick!”

“I’d prefer neither, if I’m being honest!” You exclaimed, releasing his clothes so he could turn around fully, facing you. Your shoulders slumped a bit as you stared at his arm, your eyelids drooping in sorrow. “But it’s fine. Yell at me.” If this is what he needed… “Take your anger out on me!” If you could prevent the others from being hurt again…you’d do anything. “Whatever you need to feel better.” You lifted your head to stare him down only to lower it as soon as you felt a little bonk on your head.

As soon as the side of his hand gently struck the top of your skull, he deflated. “Are you an entire idiot?” An exhausted sigh left his lungs, rubbing at his eyes before lowering his good arm. “Taking my anger out on you would leave you hurt or even worse. Don’t you know better than to provoke a demon? I thought we all taught you better than that.”

You rubbed the part he had hit, although it had startled you more than hurt you. Squaring your shoulders, you changed your stance to one to make it look as though you had planned this to work all along. Wait…who was supposed to be scolding who? You came here to look after him, not the other way around! “And I thought maybe you all would trust me a bit more to actually tell me the truth rather than sneak around and skulk in your rooms!” As you both locked eyes, his gaze almost flickered away from you at that. Time to double down. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as much of an idiot.” Normally, statements like that would rile him up again, but you were, perhaps, riding on the fact that you knew he had a weakness for you. That, and the fact that you came up and wrapped your arms around his waist probably saved you from retaliation. “I might be an idiot, sure, but I’m not completely stupid.” Your head rested against his good shoulder. “I know when something feels off with you all. Did you really expect me to stand idly by as you all suffered?”

His little huff disturbed a few strands of your hair. “I guess I was hoping it would take you a bit longer before you found out…We all underestimated you again, didn’t we?”

“Never forget that humans thrive on stubbornness and spite,” you reminded him with a little grin. You pulled apart from him and took his good hand. “Let’s get out of this cold hallway. You should be in bed.” A noise of mild surprise stuck in his throat as you tugged him back into his bedroom, shutting the door, carefully stepping over and around little piles of books to bring him back to his bed. He sat back down on his mattress, glaring daggers at a hardcover lying face up and open over his covers. With a swipe of his hand much like a cat, he batted it clean off his bed. Something in the back of your mind clicked. The knock at the door wasn’t what made him upset, was it? Asmo mentioned something like this, didn’t he? “Are you mad that you can’t turn the pages?”

Heat suddenly flared up in his cheeks, almost growling. “It shouldn’t be that hard!” His broken arm was his dominant one…

“What happened to your e-book tablet? That should be fine for now, right?”

“I lent it to Levi…” He settled back against his pillows, staring out the window. “But it’s fine, I don’t need it. Don’t bother him.”

You looked out the window with him, wondering if there was something fascinating out there or if it was another excuse to not look you in the eyes. You sat down beside him on the bed, your forefinger resting on his good hand, tracing circles into his knuckles. You caught him trying to glance at you out of the corner of his eyes, gaze a bit softer than it had been. “Do you know what happened to the rest of your brothers? I remember Levi ran off before I could even get a good look at him.”

Satan’s jaw tightened, a little bump forming in one of his cheeks as his tongue pressed against the side of his mouth, struggling to talk but luckily finally sharing some information. “Asmo’s knee got dislocated and has multiple fractures throughout his leg. We managed to fix it up mostly, but he still can’t walk on it very well. I remember trying to get to him, turning my back for just a second. Just one second. Then I think I was kicked. Next thing I remember, I was waking up far away from battle, my arm completely broken from the shoulder down. I returned to the fight when it was nearly over.” Against his own better judgment, he tried to shift his injured shoulder as if maybe it had healed in the little bit of time you had been with him. He winced, cursing a bit, squeezing his eyes shut till the sharp pain went away. As you rubbed his other good arm, you had to wonder to yourself if the brothers had had very many instances with pain like this. For humans, it wasn’t really rare to break a bone or dislocate something at all. What usually hurt you was nothing more than perhaps mild discomfort to these demons. So for them to feel this much pain… “We’re supposed to be your protectors…” Satan found your hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “For all of us to be put out of commission like this…”

Your heart tugged at that. “Satan…” You stroked the side of his face with the back of your other hand, shaking your head a little. “Don’t be so dramatic. I don’t think any less of you. Not for any of you. Let me take care of all of you this time. I may not be super strong, or super fast, or insanely powerful…but I can do this at least. So please, don’t push me away. Let me help. Do you want me to go get your tablet from Levi’s room?”

For a moment, he was speechless, slowly tilting his head towards your touch before closing his eyes completely. “If you would…yes, please.”

“Then I’ll go do that,” you beamed. “Anything else you want me to get for you?”

He shook his head, rubbing his cheek against your hand like his favorite felines till it was settled in your palm. “Not right now…but listen, Levi’s not…doing well. Please, be careful.”

“What happened to him?”

He straightened, obviously wanting more of your attention but turning serious. Sure, they all taunted and joked around with each other, fought with each other, said they couldn’t stand each other, as siblings are wont to do, but even Satan seemed upset when he spoke about his older brother, a special sort of worry swirling deep behind his eyes. Once he told you, you stood straight up, stomach churning. You gave Satan’s hand a kiss before dropping it, sprinting out of his room as fast as you could.

Nothing prepared, no plan in your mind, you approached Levi’s room quickly. If what Satan had said was true…Satan wouldn’t lie about something like this. Which meant…Levi…You threw the door open, not even bothering to knock, which yeah, was kinda rude, but you couldn’t help it, you were riddled with concern. It was a good thing you did too, because he was doing worse than you had imagined. “Oh god…Levi…” You whispered, almost losing the strength in your voice at the shock.

Unlike his other two brothers you’d visited so far, he seemed to have taken no steps to take care of himself from earlier. You could hardly blame him though, seeing him like this, clothes still filthy from the flight, covered in dirt and…blood. His blood. It was all over his face, matting his hair, coating his eyelids. His hands were also covered in it, clawing at his scalp, rolling around on the floor in pain, silently crying. Had he been this way for hours? And no one bothered to tell you? No one bothered to take care of him this way?! It hit you suddenly, that perhaps no one was here to help Levi because no one could. Were all the others this way?...Or were the ones you had yet to see even worse?

Glancing at him was enough to figure out a list of what he needed. Sneaking back into Asmo’s room, you were at the very least pleased to see that the medicine bottle had a smidge less of its contents, meaning Asmo had taken some for the pain. This was what Levi needed now. You held onto it carefully, allowing yourself to look at Asmo’s sleeping face for only a split-second before leaving Lust to his beauty sleep. You dashed around the house in nearly a panic, gathering a few other things until your human arms couldn’t carry anything else. You returned to Levi’s bedroom, shutting the door behind you with your foot, nearly dropping all the items on the floor beside him, careful not to break any of the valuables. “Levi?” You spoke gently, voice filled with compassion and yet sorrow. You hated seeing him like this. You frowned as the demon continued to squirm, gasping, unable to focus on anything other than the unimaginable pain he was going through. You almost reached out to touch his head, but that would’ve been the worst idea right now seeing as how…his horns were gone.

Heart breaking in pieces, you grabbed his wrists, trying to prevent him from causing any more damage to his head. Although his eyes were still closed, he reached out for you, gripping your clothes so tightly, he ripped holes in them with his fingers. “Help me…” He cried, not embarrassed at being caught this way, just desperate for some relief, for someone to care for him when he could not.

“I am…I’m here,” you assured him, placing your arms under his, suddenly doing your best to slightly pick him up, dragging him over to his wall so you could prop him up against it. Somehow, you did this successfully, the adrenaline in you giving you strength you didn’t know you had. Fumbling with the medicine bottle, you poured the proper dosage into the cap. When Barbatos had given this to you, you almost laughed, ready to question why it was a liquid kind rather than in some capsule form. Now you answered your own question. Levi was hardly in a state well enough to consume this much, you didn’t want to imagine the kind of pain you would have put the both of you through if you had tried to get him to swallow a pill. Keeping him still with a hand against his face, you told him to open his mouth, dumping the medicine past his lips.

Magically, it seemed to almost work as soon as he swallowed it. His twitching lessened, his breathing not as shallow. “MC?” He muttered your name weakly, trying to open his eyes, but finding that his dried blood had essentially sealed his eyes shut. It’s a good thing you brought a rag and a little bowl of clean warm water.

“It’s me,” you confirmed, getting the rag wet and brushing it over his face, working on clearing up the eyelids, getting it off his eyelashes. Soon, his tears were no longer limited to slipping from the corners of his eyes. They dripped down his face, streaking down more grime as they did so. You were quick to wipe that all away, getting his face clean, trying to ignore the way he was rubbing his head against the wall. Although doing so seemed to bring him some relief, as long as he didn’t accidently touch the two bloody nubs just barely peeking above his blue-hair. After you’d cleaned his face, the medicine, your presence, and the steady motion against the cold wall had his crying stop completely. Now he simply seemed two steps away from passing out, and while you knew he desperately needed sleep after all that, you did hope you could get him fully clean before then. “Let’s try to get you to the shower, come on.” You took both his hands, leaning your full body weight back, persuading him up on his feet.

A small wave of despair flooded over you from him as a little bit of his negative personality came through. “Gross…” He muttered, hardly having the energy in him to speak. “And dir…dirty…” He did get up eventually, almost falling forward, leaning a ton of his dead-weight on you instead.

“I know, Levi, I know…We’re going to work on you getting clean. I’m going to need you to try to stand up though…or we’ll both fall…” Your legs were already shaking at the added pressure. Demons sure were heavy…He managed to find the strength to carry himself, holding your hand tightly as you led him through the doorway to his room. He kept wobbling, unbalanced on his own feet. Was he that exhausted or…was the sudden loss of horns on his head throwing off his entire natural stability? You tugged him away from the doorframe he was about to walk straight into, carefully and slowly leading him towards the House’s main bathroom.

Despite being really out of it, he suddenly seemed to realize where you both were as soon as the bathroom door closed you both in. “I…I…I…” Was all he could stutter. You grabbed one of the bathroom’s chairs – an interior design choice you always questioned, but one you were grateful for now – and settled him in one, working to pull his dirty hoodie off, some of your fingers brushing over the blue scale-like details in his skin. Finally, this last act was enough to bring him almost fully to his senses. “Don’t!” He held onto his clothes while you had brought them nearly fully off, the fabric bunched up over his head, covering his face. “I…I can do it…I’ll be out– be out soon…”

You allowed yourself to take a breath, thinking about the fact that you were essentially tearing off his clothes. Shaking your head, trying to gather yourself and your own senses, you agreed. “Okay…just remember no shampoo or anything, alright? I’ll bring you clean clothing and be right outside the door.” He didn’t exactly have the power to deny you, so he just agreed with a groan, pulling his hoodie off the rest of the way, letting it fall to the floor. Giving him his privacy, you left the room, turning back down the hall to gather Levi some clean clothes. You didn’t really know how to treat broken horns…Satan had briefly explained enough to assure you that they would grow back, it would just be extremely uncomfortable to say the least. You had to just hope that you were doing enough…and if you could help Asmo and Satan recover, they could probably help the others in ways you could not. One step at a time though. Folding up a set of clean and soft clothes, you hurried back to the bathroom, giving it a small knock. “Levi, I’m going to open up the door enough to put these inside, okay?”

“F–Fine…” It was faint, but you heard it, opening the door just wide enough to settle the clothes on the floor before shutting it again, resting your forehead against the wood. There was silence other than the sound of rushing water. Then there was a little squeak as the showerhead turned off, a few stray drops striking the floor. You then heard him shuffling, moaning a little bit in pain as he worked to get himself dressed. As you finally took a step back from the door, it opened, Levi grasping on the door handle, his fresh clothes you’d brought him clinging to his still-soaking body.

You sighed a bit and pointed to the chair that had remained in the place you’d left it. “Sit,” you demanded, careful not to let the magic of the pact work its way in your words. With how weak he was, you didn’t want to force his body to do anything. Levi looked at you with wide eyes before lowering his head, almost whimpering, sitting in the seat. You stepped inside, finding a soft towel, beginning to run it over his body. This was probably a useless gesture. The brothers had already explained to you that temperature, little things like staying wet, they weren’t that hazardous to demons. Yet, you couldn’t help but do it anyway, getting his arms and his legs, his neck. His hair still had a decent amount of dried blood in it, but you’d have to worry about that later. Even just touching his hairline almost had him flinch. “Okay,” you told him once you felt satisfied, going over one last spot with the towel as you cleared the water from dripping into his eyes. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He had no complaints at that, letting you drag him back to his bedroom. It probably wasn’t needed, but you held onto his shoulders as you helped him hoist himself into his strange nest of a bed. He immediately curled up into it, a sigh leaving his chest as he finally seemed to have a reprieve from constant pain. You unfurled one of the blankets you’d brought from your room, the one he always seemed to tug away from you if he spent the night in your room. Pulling it over him, he finally looked up at you, eyes almost wavering with emotion as he gripped at the comforter.

“Get lots of sleep. I’ll bring you food when you wake up as well as anything else you need.” You wished you could stroke his head, petting him softly. You’d have to resolve yourself to rubbing his arm instead. “Do you know if any of your other brothers really need my help right now?” You could only start to imagine what the others might be going through in silence. Levi suddenly looked frightened as he began to recall the others. He raised his head enough to speak clearly, a pleading sort of squeak in his voice. “B-Beel.”

You steeled yourself as you approached the twin’s room. On one hand, this would be an opportunity to take care of two brothers at once. On the other hand, you knew you would suffer seeing the state the two youngest brothers were in. Levi had finally passed out as soon as he uttered his brother’s name, unable to stay awake any longer, so you had no idea what afflicted Gluttony and Sloth. Beel had shown up to breakfast at least. Yet, you had to wonder if any injury was enough to keep him away from food. He’d probably be hungry now…maybe you should’ve made him something. Best to check on them first though while you were here.

At least you knew the twins were not as likely to turn you away as the others. Beel didn’t have that sort of stubbornness in him, and he was hardly embarrassed by anything. Belphie might initially be irritated, but he was the spoiled one. He would probably quickly change his feelings as soon as he knew you would do anything for him. A little sigh came out of you as you gathered yourself. A few of your knocks seemed to echo down the quiet halls. With these two, you announced yourself without hesitating, hoping to hear a voice on the other side. “Beel? Belphie? It’s me. Can I come in?” Nothing. Not too surprising actually. Perhaps they were both asleep? That would be a preferable scenario. “I’m coming in,” you warned, pausing for a few seconds before pushing the door open.

The room was dark, a slight glow coming from the sun and moon decals behind the twin’s bed. It allowed you just enough light to keep from tripping on your own feet. The first thing you noticed was surprisingly Belphie’s bed. Empty. But not even just devoid of a demon, empty entirely. Pillows, blankets, stuffed cushions, even the sheets, all tugged off Sloth’s bed in what appeared to be a fit of frustration. Nothing was damaged but the mattress was bare, the nest Belphie usually slept in was in heaps on the ground. Luckily, Beel’s bed was not in the same state, a large lump under the covers, a few ginger tufts sticking out from the blanket’s hem. He usually snored, but it didn’t seem to be the case this time, which had you wondering if he was awake or not. He was, however, wheezing a little, each breath taken in shakily and painfully. You came over quietly, nervous about trying to tap him or shake him when you weren’t sure about the state he was in. So, you simply pulled down the comforter enough to see his face, rubbing the top of his head, assuming with imaginary crossed-fingers that he didn’t share Levi’s injuries. His eyebrows were scrunched in pain, but as soon as he felt your hand on his head, his eyes fluttered open. “MC?”

“Hi, Beel,” you tried to grin, sitting next to him on the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Huh?” His eyes closed again as he seemed to be thinking, humming once he came to a conclusion. “How did you know? I was told we weren’t supposed to tell you.”

So this wasn’t some unanimous brotherly bond of secrecy? Which one of these stupid, pig-headed, prideful– ah, Lucifer told them all to hush, didn’t he? You’d have to give the eldest a scolding of your own later, even at the risk of your own health. It was what he deserved. However, that wasn’t your main concern at the moment. You nodded towards Beel. “Diavolo told me. So, I’ve been checking in on all of you. I’m here to take care of you. Anything you want– within reason –and I’ll get it for you.”

Unlike his other siblings, Beel actually smiled. “I’m glad.” He tried to let out a relieved exhale, but only twitched in pain as soon as he tried. “Stuff like this doesn’t happen a lot. I’m sure some of them don’t know what to do…so I’m glad you’re here for them.”

“I’m here for you too, you know,” you had to remind him. “Can you tell me what happened to you so I can help you?”

Suddenly he frowned deeply, a sulking and guilty look crossing over his face. “I tried to help…but I ended up causing more problems for everyone…” He seemed one step away from crying, but managed not to, looking away from you instead. “Mammon was the distraction, but everyone could tell he was getting tired. I didn’t want him to get hurt so I…” He moaned a little as he took a breath to keep talking. “It ended up charging. I took the hit. I play Fangol, so I thought I could take it…but I…” He pushed the rest of the covers off him with one hand, the blankets folding up around his feet. You noticed that there were several little packets resting on his body. At least you discovered where the ice-packs were now. They appeared to all have melted though, deflated and warm. You’d have to put them back in the freezer. Beel pulled up part of his shirt, revealing the huge discolored bruises that covered his torso. He rested his hand beside him on the bed, trying to look at his own injuries with a little bit of confusion, like he wasn’t used to feeling this way. “Hurt my ribs,” he finally stated. “And it was all for nothing…my brothers all got hurt anyway…”

“That’s not your fault, Beel.” With a kind hand, you turned his head towards you. “It’s not. You all did what you thought was best in the moment. You won’t start to feel better if you keep beating yourself up over it. Let yourself rest physically and mentally, okay?” You rubbed his head again, the gesture making him grin again. It was an act he mostly saw happen to his twin, so he was probably internally thrilled it was his turn this time. “Promise me you’ll rest.”

“I’ll try…it’s hard though…I’m worried.”

“About your brothers?”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah…I know a lot of them got hurt pretty badly. Belphie seemed pretty restless earlier. I think that’s keeping me up too.”

“So I take it you won’t be able to sleep till I take care of the rest of them?”

Either he was taking this whole thing extra hard, or perhaps he heard the exhaustion that was beginning to creep into your voice. “Sorry…”

You tugged his shirt back down over his bruised body, picking up the multiple used-up ice packs that needed to be refrozen. “Don’t be, Beel. It’s nice that you care for your brothers that deeply. I’ve checked on Asmo, Satan, and Levi already. They’re on their first steps to recovery.” At that fact, a few lines of worry left Beel’s forehead. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for a little bit, make you a snack, and bring you some medicine, and then I’ll go take care of the rest of your siblings, okay?”

At the mention of a snack, his stomach rumbled. “Please?”

For a giant, muscular demon, he really could be adorable. “Of course. I’ll be right back, okay?” You tucked the covers around him for now, getting up to leave the room to finish up your new tasks. First off, the medicine you’d left in Levi’s room. You opened the door quietly, glad Levi was sleeping soundly. While you were here, you’d better find Satan’s tablet before Wrath got too impatient. Luckily, it was simply resting on Levi’s desk. Tucking that and the medicine under one arm, you left Levi to his dreams, rushing back down to Satan’s room. You were glad when knocking didn’t result in making him angry again. In fact, he didn’t respond at all. You were surprised to find Satan fast asleep when you took a peek inside his room. You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his peaceful face, setting down his tablet on his nightstand, leaving him to head to the kitchen.

As you opened the kitchen door, you nearly walked into someone else. The demon blinked. “Beel? Oh…you’re not Beel.”

“Belphie!” You were a bit comforted at the fact that he seemed to be walking around just fine. “What’re you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Looking for Beel…” He muttered, his eyes glazed over with pain and exhaustion, and yet despite that and being Sloth, he didn’t seem up for sleeping just yet.

“He’s up in your room. He’s been there since breakfast…did you not notice him?” You walked around the demon for a moment, trying to multitask, putting the warm ice-packs in the freezer. You placed down the medicine on the counter, pulling out a few things to make and bring for Beel. Something easy to eat.

“I don’t…remember…my head hurts…” Belphie lowered his head, looking away from the light in the room.

He was acting a bit odd… “Come sit down for a minute,” you coaxed, coming over to take him by the shoulders, making him sit down at the kitchen island. “If your head hurts, take some medicine. Here.” Like you had done for Levi, you poured the medicine in the cap, holding it out for Belphie to take. Rather than taking it in his own hands, he parted his lips slightly, waiting for you to do it for him. Like you said earlier…spoiled. You couldn’t help but chuckle just a little bit as you gave him the medicine, turning your back to him to wash the cap again. Your humor was short-lived as you heard him rush out of his seat so fast, he knocked the chair over. “Belphie?” You turned just in time to watch him bend over a trash can, purging the medicine you’d just given him. Almost dropping what you’d had in your hand, you rushed over to his side, keeping him steady as he continued to be sick, a few coughs and cries between heaves.

Once he was done, he fell to the ground, using the fabric of his sleeve to wipe off his lips, pressing his forehead against the cold floor. “What’s…wrong…with…me?”

A headache, light sensitivity, restlessness…nausea…As you hurried to grab him a cup of water, you tried to connect the symptoms to something. Although, it’s not like you were a demon doctor or anything, how were you supposed to know for certain? You did have a guess though…You knelt beside him, grabbing his arm to pull him up upright just enough so he was sitting up against a cabinet. You tried getting him to hold the glass of water, but he kept batting you away. “Belphie…drink some. Here, take sips.” You supported the back of his head, making him drink in little doses before you felt satisfied. “I’m sorry for making you take the medicine when your stomach was upset…I had no idea.” You frowned, trying not to lecture yourself too harshly, gently placing the back of your hand on his forehead.

At the touch, he collapsed forward, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you in a death-like grip. “So…tired…where’s Beel?”

It would be bad if he fell asleep on you like this…You wouldn’t be able to leave…”I just told you…in your room. Did you hurt your head, Belphie?” Could demons get concussions? This seemed close to that, whatever it was. You rubbed his back at the risk of lulling him to sleep.

“I…think so…”

“Poor Belphie…” You couldn’t help but say aloud, letting him squeeze you a bit. “Let’s take you to bed. Can you stand up? I can’t carry you…”

“Bed?...”

“Yeah, in your room. A nice soft bed. I just need you to stand up for me…” After a bit of processing, he managed to stand…although he was still holding onto you, only shuffling his feet whenever you moved. His head rested in the crook of your neck, arms around your waist. He was making everything a lot harder…but if this is what he wanted…Placing a few snacks and the bottle of medicine on a tray, you somehow managed to hold onto it while having Belphie cling to you like his life depended on it. “Let’s go…” This would be an adventure. Each step you took towards the twins room, you felt more of Belphie’s strength leave him, leaning on you a little harder the further you got. By some miracle, you both made it, trying to not collapse to the floor while almost fully dragging Belphie around.

As you opened the door, you noticed Beel brighten at the sight of you two, holding his sides as he sat up. You almost warned him against it, but if he was going to eat, better to do it upright. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to give a demon a Heimlich Maneuver if he started to choke. “Belphie! You found him.”

Gritting your teeth a bit, you managed to pull the mentioned twin further into the room, settling the tray on Beel’s lap. “Yeah…he’s not doing so well…Can you take him off of me so I can make his bed?”

Beel’s face fell a little bit, ignoring the snacks for now, grabbing both of Belphie’s arms, having to pry his twin off of you. You stretched a bit as soon as the weight left your shoulders. “Thanks…” Time to tackle this mess of a bed now…At least you knew Belphie wasn’t exactly picky when it came to his sleeping spots. Still, you wanted to do your best. You worked on finding the sheets first, tugging them over each of the corners. You heard the twins muttering to each other behind you, both of them trying to support each other in their own ways despite being injured. It warmed your heart, giving you a bit more energy to keep going. After the sheets were on, you threw all the cushions, letting them settle wherever they fell, spreading out the blankets and tucking back one of the corners. “Alright, Belphie, let’s tuck you in.”

The youngest’s knees were on the floor, the top half of him resting on Beel’s bed, his body slowly slipping towards the ground. You came over behind him, hands on his sides, trying to pull him up and over to his bed. “I want…to stay…with Beel…”

“I think it’s best if you stay in your own beds for now…” Although you were pretty tempted to do whatever he asked. Especially since he sounded so broken-hearted over leaving his twin despite only being a few feet away from him. “What if you hurt his ribs while trying to hug him? Or what if you accidentally hit your head against something since you’d be cramped trying to stay in the same bed? Once you both feel better, you can sleep wherever you want.” He didn’t really fight you, huddling up into a little ball on his bed once you’d guided him into it. You made sure only the softest of his pillows were placed under his head as you tucked several blankets around him, hoping he could sleep despite the pain he was in.

“He looks worse than I remember…” Beel whispered from his own bed.

“I think he must’ve hit his head pretty hard sometime during the fight,” you shared, trying to get Belphie to fall asleep by rubbing circles into his back over the blankets. “He was wandering around looking for you, and then threw up the medicine when I gave it to him. I’ll try to have him take some again after he sleeps. Maybe his stomach will settle by then.”

Suddenly, Beel found it hard to eat his snacks, like he could feel his brother’s nausea as his own…or maybe he found it hard to enjoy himself while all his other siblings were suffering. He still managed to eat, just slowly, the two of you sitting in relative silence for a bit, observing Belphie as his eyelids struggled to stay open, finally shutting and remaining still. “MC?” Beel called your name softly, waving you over. You got up and approached him, an eyebrow raised. He surprised you as he took your face in his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re the best. I’m glad we have you looking after us…Thank you.”

“You all can thank me by getting better as quickly as you can.” You kissed his cheek, pulling away from him with a hand settled on one of your hips. “Try to rest too if possible. Leave your brothers to me…and let me know if you or Belphie need anything.”

“Okay,” he agreed, some worry leaving him now that his twin was back in the room, knowing that the others had you caring for them. He stifled a yawn, still unable to take deep breaths. “And MC?” He made sure to address you before you left the room. You looked over your shoulder at him. “Look after yourself too, okay? You already look tired.”

You were…but you were far from being done…but, yes. You wouldn’t be much help if you got hurt from pushing yourself too hard. “I will, Beel. Don’t worry.”

Only Mammon and Lucifer remained unchecked. Out of the two of them, you figured you’d save the most problematic for last…which meant you’d head to Mammon first. While Lucifer did have a special soft-spot for you, if he was hurt, it meant his Pride was doubly wounded. There was little chance he’d let you into his room. Maybe Mammon would have some idea on how to convince the eldest to let you in, and you could care for the second-born in the meantime. You were a bit worried though…Despite his grumblings, Lucifer always looked after his siblings. So why…when they needed it the most, was Lucifer nowhere to be found? He had sent that message to the members of Purgatory Hall to ensure you’d make it to RAD safely, and that was it. There had been no sign of him since then. Focus, you encouraged yourself, pacing in a little circle in front of Mammon’s door before channeling your inner Lucifer and knocking sternly. Silence.

Somehow, despite having been met with similar disappointing responses several times today, Mammon’s missing voice sent a chill down your spine. There was no grumble, no yelp, no noise inside his room whatsoever. “Mammon?” You opened his door to spy inside. You were a quick jumble of conflicting emotions. The quietness was simply due to Mammon being completely absent from his room and not because he was so hurt he…For that you were grateful…and yet…where in the world was he?! If he was hurt, now was not the time to be out! You could only hope he was still inside the house…You’d have to go find him.

Trying to remain quiet enough not to disturb the others attempting to rest, you sprinted through the house, checking every room you came across, playing this weird and stressful game of hide-and-seek you didn’t remember signing up for. Maybe the couches in the common room? No. The music room? Sadly not. The library? Not unless he had hidden himself amongst the books…Think, think! This was Mammon. If he wasn’t in his room, where would he be?...You closed your eyes, hands pressing against your temples as if you could squeeze the information into your brain. And then…an idea. Running back through the hall, you made your way down past the brother’s bedrooms and towards your own. He always did say your room was practically his own as well, seeing as how he was there so often. You had found your room empty when you grabbed the blanket for Levi, so it had almost slipped from your mind. But there was always the possibility Mammon had snuck in there while you were off helping the others.

There it was…your door just ahead of you…opened by a crack when you had sworn you shut it completely when you’d left. He had to be there. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you padded slowly up to your bedroom, pushing the door open softly. Hair covering his face, breathing in little gasps, Mammon was resting at the end of your bed on his back, legs dangling off the mattress. You nearly jumped on your bed beside him, trying not to jostle him too much, touching the side of his face as you observed his split bottom lip. “H–hey,” he rasped, either having been awake the whole time or suddenly up at your touch. “You’re not–” His head tilted back as he groaned, biting his lip tightly, making the split in his lip worse, some of his blood dripping down his chin.

“You’re hurting yourself,” you lightly scolded. “Don’t bite on your lip like that.”

You could tell he attempted to look at you with annoyance, but it fell very short, looking like a beg instead. “Don’t…tell me what to do…”

You had several things you wanted to say to that, most of them sarcastic, but you could tell he didn’t need that right now. “We should get you back to your room…” Running your fingers through his hair, you felt how cold his skin was…You wedged a hand under one of his shoulders, ready to help push him up, only to hear him shout in pain, his cry so sharp it rang in your ears.

“Don’t move me!” He panted, cold sweat running down his forehead now in little beads, gulping down the pain. “Don’t…move me…” He repeated it, quieter this time.

Hearing him like that forced tears to prick your eyes, but you didn’t dare let them fall. “Why’d you come in here then if you were hurt that bad?!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice a bit, the tone almost breaking in a little bit of panic. He looked worse for wear…beyond that, even.

“Heh…” It was a mix between a whine and a chuckle. “I’m the stupid one…remember?” That appeared to be his only answer. He turned his head away from you and closed his eyes. “Just leave me here…yeah?” You wanted to do something, wanted to say something, but you suddenly found yourself at a loss. What should you do? What had happened to the troublesome Greed to make him like this?

“Where?...” You finally spoke, voice a little strained. “Where are you hurt?...How badly?” He didn’t respond, and for a moment, you were worried he had blacked out. But then slowly, he reached for your hand, weakly holding it in his own.

“Badly…”

“Where?” You asked again.

There was a wheeze as he tilted his head towards you again, the life draining from his face, blinking slowly. “Got me…right in the chest…’batos patched me up, but…hurts like hell…” He tried looking you in the eyes, but cast his gaze away quickly, probably embarrassed at the way he looked right now. ‘Not cool at all’, he would probably say under normal conditions. Gradually, despite his stubbornness, he lifted up his shirt. His chest was tightly bound in bandages, three large lines of blood bleeding out through the cloth. He’d been cut…or clawed at was probably the better term. Greed was selfish, ‘scummy’ most called him, and yet, he took a deep and painful breath, using up energy he didn’t really have to ask you a specific question. “How’re the others?”

“I’ve been helping them as much as I can…”

“Lucifer?”

“I haven’t seen him yet...Is he bad?”

He licked at his dry lips, swallowing some nervousness. “Don’t…tell him I told you…” His eyes looked around like he was worried his older brother might pop out of the walls. Once he figured he was safe enough, he sighed. “Idiot’s worse than I am.”

The words struck you harshly, leaving you feeling almost numb. “Worse? He seemed almost fine when you all came home.”

“That’s pride for ya…”

Your head lowered, trying to ignore the worry pounding in your chest. One step at a time… One brother at a time…Now was not the time to sulk. “If we can’t get you to your room, let’s at least try to straighten you out…”

“You’re askin’ a lot of me here…” It came off as a little bit of a joke, Mammon mentally preparing himself. “The Great��Mammon will move for ya…You might have to help a little though.” He gestured towards his feet, having you grab his ankles to swing him around vertically. Meanwhile, he dug his elbows into the mattress, pulling himself up to where your pillows were. Unlike before, he kept himself from shouting this time, probably to save some face. However, now his body was slightly trembling, pain wracking his body.

“You did it,” you praised, tugging the remaining blankets out from under him so you could place them over his body. You pet his head, trying to dab away some of his sweat with the corner of the covers. “Good job…” You noticed your own hands were shaking. “...Hey…you’ll be okay, won’t you?” Finally, without your permission, you felt some tears slip from your eyes. “You’re not going to die on me, are you?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. “Nah…It’ll take a lot more…than some measly scratches…to do me in.”

“Promise?...”

He reached a hand up to brush away one of your tears, only to quickly lose the strength, his arm dropping limply to his sides. “I promise. I wouldn’t lie to ya. Give me a few days…and I’ll be right back on my feet.” You didn’t mean to doubt him, but you’d have to contact Diavolo to double check. Although, if Barbatos truly was the one to mend these wounds, you doubted he would’ve let Mammon go if he was in critical condition.

“Barbatos gave me medicine for the pain. I’ll go get it for you, okay?” You ran your hand up and down his arm. “Do you want anything else?”

“Eh…if you’re askin’, some water would be nice.”

“I can do that!” You didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but if that’s all he wanted to feel better, you could do that easily. It made you feel a little less useless in this situation. “I’ll be right back!” Thank goodness the kitchen was right next door, although you left the medicine in the twin’s room…Maybe at this point, you should just have it strapped to you, since it seemed everyone needed some, making you run back for it all the time. At least it gave you an excuse to peek in on the twins again. Heading to the room first, you tip-toed in. Both twins were asleep. Now, you weren’t necessarily the prayerful type, but even you were tempted to slip in a little thank-you to the universe or whoever else might be listening. You grabbed the bottle of medicine once more and bolted back downstairs. In this situation, you would’ve been tempted to fill up the fanciest glass for Mammon, but if he could hardly move…a glass probably wouldn’t cut it…What did they have in here? You rummaged through the shelves and cupboards, looking for something that might be more useful than just a glass. Ah! One of Beel’s sports water bottles! It was one of those kinds where you hit a button and a little straw pops out. If only it wasn’t so large…oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers. You filled it up with filtered water, leaving enough empty space so if you were to tilt it, water wouldn’t come spilling out. Then you made your way back to Mammon, almost out of breath with as fast as you had been moving. You crawled up in bed on your knees, already in the process of pouring him some medicine. “Here…” You could only hope he wouldn’t be sick like Belphie. You helped him tilt his head up, pouring it into his mouth, watching him grimace.

“Awful stuff…” Although, like for Levi, it started to take effect immediately. He took a moment to himself, breathing clearly, his body no longer shuddering. Then as the pain subsided, he started to realize just how dry his throat felt. “Water,” he demanded, a little bit of warmth coming to his cheeks…thank goodness. “Please,” he added.

You handed him the water bottle and watched as he greedily chugged it down, almost emptying it entirely. “Easy!” You warned. “Don’t make yourself sick.”

He gasped for air once he had gulped down enough, already looking worlds better than when you had found him, although he still was looking rough. “--’is the best water…ever had…”

You sighed, releasing a ton of tension you’d been holding in your lungs. “It’s a good year…Vintage.” Not the best joke you’d ever made, a pretty terrible one actually, but one you shared nonetheless. Anything to break the tension.

A breathy huff left his nostrils, the best he could manage for a laugh while his chest was in tatters. You suddenly felt his fingers weave through yours, holding your hand as he closed his eyes. “Thank you…”

You brushed some of his hair away from his eyes, feeling the temperature in his skin begin to return to normal. “You’re welcome…Get some rest. Please don’t move rooms while I’m gone.”

“I won’t…” He cracked one eye back open. “Gonna see Lucifer?”

“I’ll…try. If he’s worse off than you are, I have no idea how he’ll let me even near him.” You rubbed your thumb comfortingly against Mammon’s, thinking as you frowned. These demons…You felt like your already shorter-in-comparison life-span was shrinking even further at the stress.

Mammon hummed a little bit, releasing his hand so you could go, although you felt his hesitation. He didn’t want to let you go, but he knew he had to. “If he’s doin’ what I think he’s doin’, he’s in recovery mode right now. He’s shut himself down to heal as fast as he can to not disappoint Diavolo.” One of his fingers raised to point towards your door. “His door is probably locked, but I know Lucifer keeps an emergency Master Key somewhere in his office.”

That sounded like a lot of work for something Lucifer would probably hate you for rather than be grateful. Intruding his office just to further intrude his bedroom after he locked it…If anyone knew what he was doing, it would be the eldest…Maybe you should leave him be. “Sounds pretty scheme-y.” Mammon almost looked wounded at that…joke not intended. “He’s the strongest out of everyone…He probably doesn’t need my help.”

“MC…” Mammon pulled at the sleeve of your shirt, his eyes suddenly glaring at you with an unusual firmness. “Did ya not hear what I said? He’s shut down. If I can hardly move, there’s a good chance he can’t either. There’s no way he can take proper care of himself right now. ” He let go of you as he realized that he wasn’t exactly being clear. “Listen, he took a heavy hit for Diavolo. Got his wings messed up pretty badly. He was so stunned, he probably didn’t even know how badly he was hurt till he got home. If he’s not checking up on us, that means he’s unable to.” He went quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, looking at the ceiling to your room like he was trying to sense something. Maybe he could. Maybe he had some sort of connection to Lucifer you hardly heard about, or maybe Mammon just could easily guess after having been around him for so long. “I hate to imagine it, but I have a bad feeling he’s completely unconscious.”

“Damn Lucifer and his tenacity to keep things hidden!” Hissing to yourself under your breath, you went about Lucifer’s office like a little whirlwind. No cushion, no folder, no shelf was safe while you were on the hunt. You knew once he was better, you’d get a proper punishment from Lucifer for rummaging through his office, but you could cross that bridge when you came to it. Right now, there was a stubborn demon in desperate need of your help. Maybe you should’ve checked on him first. You knew something felt off about this whole situation. The little voices in the back of your head were trying to clue you in as soon as Satan expressed mild worry about the first-born. Yet, you had pushed those aside, because Lucifer was always so put-together. It was what choked Diavolo up during your little meeting.

“And it was because I was there that–” The prince had said. ‘Lucifer was wounded’, you could finally finish that statement with your own conclusion. You pounded your palms down on Lucifer’s desk, your head low, wishing that things were different. If you were smarter, you could’ve found the key by now. If you were stronger, you could simply break Lucifer’s door down by force. If you weren’t just a human…maybe you could’ve gone and fought with them. But then you would’ve gotten hurt too…you had to tell yourself.

You sat in Lucifer’s office chair, imagining him lecturing you. ‘Pitying yourself over circumstances you have no control over is a waste of time and effort,’ he’d probably say. He would be right. Although since this was you thinking it, technically you were right. Getting frustrated wouldn’t get you anywhere. Since you were already in the process of thinking like Lucifer…where would he hide a key? Somewhere away from anything valuable for fear of Mammon finding it. So nothing near his records or anything he held dear. Being in or behind any books was probably a negative as well, just in case Satan came down to borrow some. Checking the cushions had perhaps been a waste of time, for if Belphie ever came in here to take a nap, he might knock it loose. Ugh, why did he always have to overcomplicate things? Wait…maybe that was it. Anyone who tried looking for the Master Key would probably try to think like he did, complexly. So maybe the trick was to think of this as simply as you could. Where would be a dumb place to hide something important like that? With a swift motion, you opened up one of his desk drawers, careful not to mess up the order of any important papers. Nothing. And while you did feel around for a fake bottom, you figured Lucifer’s brothers would be clever enough to check for that. Just…double-checking, following through with the ‘so-simple-it-hurts’ theory, you felt around with your hand pressed against the underside of the desk. This was probably another waste of time. The demon of Pride wouldn’t try hiding a key by just taping it under his…Your fingers brushed against cold metal. You nearly felt like screaming. With a firm tug, you pulled it free, twisting it between your fingers as you looked at it. Definitely looked like a master’s key.

Giving yourself a few seconds to mentally settle, you took a deep breath. Then, not wasting any more time, you dashed from Lucifer’s office, scrambling through the House to make it to his bedroom. You knocked on his door simply to save your own skin. Lucifer was practically a lie-detector test. Later, if he was going to ask if you even attempted to knock first before breaking in, you could rest easy knowing you did...kinda. You nearly dropped the key trying to shove it in the proper slot, heart almost sinking when it didn’t turn as easily as you felt it should’ve. With a second, more firm try, the door clicked. You opened the door so hurriedly, you nearly stumbled inside. “Lucifer, I’m–” You had heard what Mammon told you, and yet somehow, despite being told directly that Lucifer was in a bad state, you had still half-expected to see him sitting up in bed by now, glaring at you with the fury of a thousand suns. Such was not the case. When would you learn that locked doors are locked for a reason? “--here…” You found yourself still finishing your announcement,

The eldest was face-down on his bed, not even under the covers. One of his arms dangled from off the edge of his bed, hand still grasping a roll of bandages which had completely unrolled, trailing all the way off to the side. Black feathers rested in various places. Some on the floor, some over Lucifer’s unmoving body, some still fluttering down from his four unfurled wings. When Mammon had mentioned them being in bad shape, he wasn’t kidding. Each of his wings were held out, bent in ways they probably shouldn’t be, the feathers disturbed, the ones that were covered in blood were the ones that were doing him the favor of falling, like they were purging themselves of imperfections. Every so often, the silence would break with the sound of a snap. It sounded like someone was popping their fingers. It took you longer than it should to notice that Lucifer’s wings moved with that sound, albeit slightly. Was this…Were his bones fixing themselves that rapidly? In front of your eyes? You were a sickly sort of fascinated, although mostly sick. After a good few minutes had passed, you finally turned around, taking the master’s key and tucking it into your pocket, shutting the door so, at the very least, Lucifer had some semblance of the privacy he had hoped to keep.

You walked closer to him, coming around the other side of the bed to see that his other hand was gripping his sheets tightly, his knuckles white the smallest hint of a tremble in his usually firm hand. It was probably unimaginably painful… Again, you had to stop and wonder what you as a human could do in this situation… You couldn’t heal him…but you could finish what he had started, since it appeared he blacked-out before he could finish. Starting with the more obvious details, you took the rolled out bandage and took it from his hand, picking it up off the floor. It would have to be disposed of now. You chucked it in a trash can, taking Lucifer’s hand that had held it and lifted it, resting his arm near his head. There was a little pause as you waited for that to wake him up. At this, he usually would’ve grabbed you, or at least turned his head at you. No. Nothing. Not even a change in his breathing. You were almost disappointed, but it was probably the best for you both if he stayed unconscious for now. Next, you took the shoes off his feet, tucking them neatly against the foot of his bed. You really tested how out of it he was after that by tugging his blanket out from under him, draping it over his legs

Now what?...As you stood there, you noticed the bruising over his back, a few thin lines of dried blood suggesting that he had been clawed at too, only the flesh-wounds had already healed. He truly was powerful. Perhaps those ice-packs you’d put in the freezer were ready to be used again. Lucifer could use one. “I’ll be back,” you whispered, leaving him to his own devices for a little while as you headed down to the kitchen once more.

As you opened the freezer, you prodded one of the ice-packs with your finger. Good enough. Gathering them into your arms, you noticed that you counted seven of them. Perfect. You stopped by Asmo’s first, going in the order you had taken care of them. He was still fast asleep. You removed the bag of frozen veggies you’d used as a last-ditch-effort, replacing it with a fresh ice-pack. Asmo moaned a little in his sleep, but did little more than that. Next was Satan, also resting, although it seemed he had woken up for at least a little while since you came in his room last, the tablet you’d left on his nightstand was now over his chest. Careful not to wake him up, you wrapped the ice-pack in a cloth before trying to tuck it in his sling, placing it over his arm. His eyebrows scrunched but that was all. Levi next. You guessed it, asleep. You settled his ice-pack on the top of his head. He tossed and turned a little at the disturbance, but didn’t open his eyes. You readjusted the pack as it began to slip from its place. Levi sighed aloud probably in relief. Now for the twins.

The entire House was noiseless as its residents continued to slumber. They all looked comfortable, at least as comfortable as they could be. You yawned a bit. What time was it? Was it that late? Or was seeing all of the sins sleep making you tired? You carefully removed Beel’s blanket after you’d entered their room. He woke up at that. “I fell asleep?”

You nodded, giving him a little grin. “Seems like it. Sorry to wake you up. I brought you one of these.” You handed him one of the remaining packs in your possession.

“Thank you.” He settled it where the swelling seemed to be the worst, wincing. “Did you check on the others? Mammon? Lucifer?” When you nodded in silence, he seemed to take the message, although he already knew they weren’t doing great in the first place. He watched you head over to Belphie’s bed, observing you as you lifted Sloth’s head gently, letting him rest on the ice-pack like a little pillow. Belphie muttered something in his sleep, almost reaching out to grab your hand, but missing, his grasp holding tightly to his body-pillow instead. “Have you had time to rest yet?” Beel asked, voicing his concern with a little rumbling groan.

“I will soon,” you assured him, coming back to ruffle the hair on his head. “I gotta finish looking after Lucifer.”

He looked at you with such compassion. “When we feel better, I want to take us all out to eat.”

“I can’t wait.” You pulled the blanket back over him, telling him to return to his rest before you left, circling back around to your room. Probably not the most efficient of paths, but the only one you could seem to follow. Mammon was out like a light, not even a twitch as you rested one of the packs in the middle of his chest. You noticed that the water bottle you brought for him was already completely empty. You’d refill it for him…and perhaps grab Lucifer one as well. “I’m back again,” you announced to the counters and cabinets. Did Beel even visit the kitchen this many times in one day?...Probably. You refilled Mammon’s container and pulled another identical one down for Lucifer. Thank goodness Beel got gifted so many of these for sports sponsorships. Water. Mammon. Dropped off. Back up to Lucifer.

Once you got back to the eldest’s room, you rested for a second against his wall, taking a breather. “Every time something like this happens,” you spoke aloud, knowing Lucifer probably wasn’t listening, “I gain a new respect for you. Taking care of this many people is exhausting.” Placing the water on Lucifer’s nightstand, you sighed, wrapping this last final ice-pack in fabric to keep it from freezing his skin. Now you could stop thinking the word ‘ice-pack’ as it was starting to lose its meaning. Carefully, you approached Lucifer’s side, careful not to touch his outspread wings to place the bundle down along his spine. “Not even the cold will wake you, hm?” You tried looking down at his sleeping features, only to remember that he was completely face-down. “Can you even breathe like that? Honestly, when it comes down to it, you’re just as bad as the rest of your brothers.” Not even mild lectures worked, huh? You reached down, finding his chin, turning his head just enough so his face was partially exposed. His slightly parted lips seemed to breathe in the air a little easier. You brushed his hair away from his closed eyes. “There you go.” Your hand seemed to linger on the side of his face. He was so warm. Almost too warm. “Rest easier now.” Your thumb rubbed at his sharp cheekbone. “Your brothers, your worries, leave them with me.” You got away with pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Return when you are ready, and not a moment sooner, you hear me?...I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.” With that, you figured you had done what you could for the time being. You dropped your touch from him, quietly striding from his room, using the key to lock his door behind you.

Hot…Why were you suddenly so unbelievably hot? You opened your eyes, trying to remember where you had last closed them. Ah, that was right, you had fallen asleep in the living room on one of the couches, not wanting to disturb Mammon’s sleep in your bed. Sure, you could’ve probably used greed’s own bed in return but…that didn’t feel right. However, when you fully opened your eyes, you were confused to find you were in your own room. Had you come here half-asleep or something? Or did… You raised your head, sitting up, or at least trying to sit up. Something, or someone was holding onto you. Actually, as your senses began to clear, multiple someone’s seemed to be keeping you in their grasp. Mammon was where you had left him on your bed, now to your left, holding your wrist in his hand. Belphie was to your direct right, clinging to your side. Beel was somehow right next to his twin, managing to fit himself on the small sliver of mattress that remained. Then there was Levi…curled up over all four of you, sleeping over the covers directly on your legs, wrapped up in the blanket you’d left for him. Satan was propped up against the wall at your feet, Wrath’s legs curled up to leave room for Asmo. The fifth and fourth-born were leaning against each other, keeping each other from falling over, a blanket loosely draped over the both of them. And then there was the eldest…seated in a chair beside the overstuffed bed, leaning forward to keep his back from touching the support of the seat, one of his arms outstretched, resting over both of the twins, his hand somehow managing to find yours in this mess of limbs. When they had gotten here, how they had gotten here, how you had ended up here, you had no clue. They were all asleep again though, still in the process of recovering. You had half a mind to wake all of them up, giving them a stern reminder on what it means to stay in bed!

But no…you couldn’t do that. Not now. You’d let them have this moment, even if you were impossibly warm from all the body heat. Not that you could exactly break free from these demonic binds nor could you carry them back to their rooms. They had all probably come in one-by-one. You chuckled to yourself at the sheer ridiculousness of it, at all of them. “Sleep well, all of you,” you whispered. “Feel better soon.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #tw blood #tw broken bones #tw bruises #tw vomit #tw cuts #tw concussion #tw injury #tw medication

911 notes · View notes