#tw: suffocation

[l3ominor]

Febuwump day 1: Helpless

Fairy in a bottle

Trapped alone in the dark

Helpless and afraid

Air is dwindling, sucked away by panicked sobs

Darkness closing in till silence reigns, and all falls still.

[cinematicnomad]

THE TERROR ▸ 1.07 horrible from supper

[the-smallest-star]

"FIRST UP! We have our usual crowd pleaser, IT'S THE ACIDIC, VENOMUS, SPINE CRUSHERRRR!!"

Clem rolled her shoulders, taking a few deep breaths as she stretched. She'd gotten in worse brawls when she worked for Toby... how bad could this b- ohhhh shit.

What stepped out was a large lizard like sinner, drool dripping from its fanged maw. From the sizzling it made when it hit the ground... yeah that wasn't good. "Just got to make it until Butch shows. C'mon Clem... c'mon." She muttered to herself. She shifted into a boxing stance, waiting.

With a shriek, Crusher lunged her way. Clem dodged to the side, only to feel their tail wrap around her leg and fling her. With a gasp she slammed into the wall, the crowd 'oooo'ing' as she did.

"THAT- has got to hurt! Looks like Firecracker is a little rusty!"

.... she was going to punch that commentator. Hauling herself away from the wall, Clem only just spotted them heading straight for her, mouth wide open. Eyes wide, she ducked, letting his head slam into the wall. Clem's claws slashed at their neck- but it did nothing. Scales too tough. Quickly, she scrambled out of the way as they wrenched their head free with another shriek. Taking a deep inhale, it shot out a spray of acid in her direction. She only just managed to throw herself out of the way, digging her hooves into the dirt to move as another spray came again.

"Crusher has Firecracker running like a cockroach! They might not even last until the overlord!"

Okay, think- his scales are too tough for punches or scratches. His neck was long and twisted easily... maybe....

She was going to have to get up close.

Clem dug in her hooves again, eyes narrowing. She then ran full speed. Her heart hammered as she saw him reel back, and she leaped as he released another spray. The imp grasped onto his head, climbing him to reach his neck as he twisted and swiped at her. Their spray was out of control, splattering against the arena walls and ground.

With great effort, and a guttural cry, Clem began to twist their head around their own neck as they struggled, the sinner panicked as they slammed themselves and Clem into the wall again and again, but she didn't stop. Their neck was soon in a knot, and their spray was building up as they bucked her off, Clem landing flat on her back. They staggered as they tried to free their own neck from itself, suffocating on their own acid before they dropped.

Clem panted, trying to catch her breath as she eased herself back onto her feet. One gladiator down. The crowd erupted into a mixture of boos and cheers.

[green-and-grey-kenaz]

The potion surged through his body, speaking deadly truths. You are alone. You have betrayed all that you stood for. You are forsaken. You are unloved. With such honesty coursing through his veins, Regulus could finally see, with his darkening vision, the Dark Lord's whispered promises for what they truly were. The Serpent slithering from his mouth, the lies slipping from his tongue... You are the Last of the Blacks. Their Legacy died with you. Regulus was without weight in the ice cold water of the cave. He could feel the fingers of the undead digging into him but it seemed so far... so distant. He was floating, free falling. Stars glittered above him and Regulus Arcturus Black fell through the surface of the veil.

Regulus here is depicted bare. This is meant to symbolise him going, stripped of his former identity (A Death Eater) and reborn, a tragic heroic figure. It also is further meant to represent the effects of the Emerald Potion, reliving your worst memories, in other words, you are barred to your past regrets and crimes, stripped down to only the essentials.

The snake leaves his mouth is meant to represent Regulus' own propagation of Voldemort's Death Eater ideology - his words were that of the serpent. It also takes the role of Voldemort, whispering in his ear and spreading it's poison. I tried to go with an adder - a British, venomous snake to kind of tie in with the idea of poison.

The thorns and flowers are Blackthorn, a tree associated with death and dark witchcraft. It twines around Regulus' body in am embrace, holding a crown tight to his chest. His death was a product of dark magic and the burden of his family. This is my own interpretation on the character, but I see Regulus' sacrifice driven by his obsession with his own sense of royalty. In his mind, as a prominent member of the Noble House of Black, it was on his shoulders to protect the wizarding world - it was the cost of his blood.

And so Regulus cries tears of blood, gilded gold.

He falls upwards and outwards of the water, towards the heavens, where the Leo constellation shines, his namesake just above his chest. It is the moment that he passes through the veil and is liberated from his earthly toil. The waters are calmed.

[sylviareviar]

I guess I oughtta give y'all an update, huh?

ok so long story short: Babushka Sveta didn't make it.

If you want the long story, you'll have to open the tab, but I do have to warn you, this may be TMI. I'm not sure.

While she was recovering from a successful procedure, she was jostled when they were moving her to a recovery bed and the tube in her neck popped out. She suffocated to death.

She never got to see my mom visit her, nor did my mom get a proper chance to say goodbye. My mom came back this Friday, but while she was gone, I also ended up getting hospitalized. Basically, I was struggling to use the restroom and the backup was hurting my lower intestines so badly I couldn't even stand up straight.

After spending a couple hours in the emergency room and getting a CT scan, I finally managed to give the doctors a urine sample and felt a lot of relief after that, so they sent me home with the instructions to drink lots of water and keep frequenting the bathroom whenever I needed to. They couldn't find anything wrong with me, but for once I was happy about that, because I also was of the belief that it was nothing serious. Like, I was in a lot of pain, but there was no need to blow it out of proportion because there were no stones, no major health issues, or anything like that; just your run-of-the-mill hiccups that happens every once in a while.

The day after my mom came back, my dad, who had gone with her, went to immediate care for his throat. I don't know what the situation is there, but basically, the idea is that...

this week punched my entire family in the gut and then some. We have wounds that will take a long time to heal from. There's a lot of tension, self-blame, and even frustration on my part (mostly college-related ngl) that makes things difficult for everyone.

Anyway, that's the long story long. This is why I haven't been as active lately. Sorry folks. I'll try to be on more often once I finally catch up on the things I missed in my biology class...

[doueverwonder]

Gil: who you talking to?

Alfred: Ludwig, basement ghost.

Gil: the guy who was crushed to death??

Ludwig: technically they ruled I died from suffocation.

Alfred: technically they ruled he died from suffocation.

[friendball-irl]

😴+😨

-@sammich-dammit

Finally meeting. Making a bunch of food. Telling jokes and messing around.

Siblingcousinnibling.

-

Something happened to them. He's angry. It wasn't my fault. Crushing force.

I can't breathe.

[general-kalani]

{ @kaiju-crimson-storyandask wjkadhja oh the poor baby--- }

"Oh now you have a fear, Deputy? You didn't think there'd be consequences for injuring my OLDEST BROTHER?! Joseph will be proud of the work I did to that Hudson, you know. Wonderful, gorgeous art piece of a vivisection to display to Joseph. You'll be impressed at how good with a blade I am... I didn't break a single vein, you know. She survived so long, eventually succumbing to suffocation. Can you imagine that, Deputy? All of this could have been avoided had you not taking my oldest brothers eye. I can't wait for you to see her, Deputy."

[m-entities]

Somehow, she was alive. Despite it all, despite the storm, the fights, the mutts, Mercuria was fully, and truly alive. Her breath was shallow, but she was atop the mountain, finally, difficultly, impossibly. She had made it. Through pythons, through Helios, through it all. And she was alive.

It was serene at the top of the mountain. It was a bizarre, alien sensation after the past three days she had lived through. It was a momentary reprieve, a breath. At the top, the mist of the storm could still be seen rolling around the sea, shrouding the various islands in a mysterious fog. The atoll was washed clean away, the wreck of the ship fully swallowed by the waves. It was easy to see all the places she had been, and the few that she had not. What a concept - there were six people left alive and there were parts of the Arena she hadn't even seen yet.

It seemed so peaceful, for a moment, that she was startled to shriek when the Panem National Anthem blared. Had night fallen that fast? That she'd be alone - truly, deeply alone - for the first time in the Arena? She craned her neck up, but it wasn't much. She had never been this close to the sky. In all her life, living in the mines, she had been down. Head down, in the earth. To be here now, on the precipice of the sky, where she could almost touch it... was unreal.

Her breath caught in her throat as Callisto's face illuminated the sky. Instantly, she heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn't at Callisto's expense. But what it meant was, with only two cannons, at least one Berry was alive. Slate's odds had skyrocketed, just by having a District One Tribute out. Not out - dead. That fact stuck the sigh in her throat, even as the second face - Flora Faye of District Seven - appeared. They were still alive. Nettle, Bramble, and Slate. Somewhere in the Arena, all three were still alive. And they would know now, that she, too, was doing her best to stay alive. That left Helios and Mars. Two Careers, both hellbent on getting home. Those two and whatever fresh horrors the Gamemakers had in store.

They were close.

It was time, then, to try to rest. But sleep was never an option. Mercuria found herself a small overhang, lest more rain start falling, and nestled in. She was just letting her eyes flutter shut when she felt it.

The smallest, tiniest pinprick in her wrist. In any other universe, she would have thought nothing of it. Back in Twelve, things bit her all the time. Mites and mosquitoes were everywhere. But this was the Arena. This was the Hunger Games. Mercuria raised her hand and saw it: a spider, no bigger than anything she had seen before, almost small. Bright, electric yellow dots dusted an otherwise jet black body. If it weren't for those dots, she wouldn't have seen it at all in the fading light of the evening.

But she felt it immediately. Like acid coursing through her veins, the toxin shot to her heart faster than she could cry out. She had only a moment to make a decision, and she did: she raised her hand above her hand, showing the spider to the sky. She felt the venom course faster, encouraged by gravity to speed along. But if she were to survive this, she would need help.

It was less than a minute later that the coughing started. Her throat slowly started to squeeze together, even as her salivary glands kicked into overdrive. Drool started pooling in her mouth, spilling out in flecks and puddles onto the ground in front of her. She fell to her knees, and the offending creature scuttled away, seemingly happy to have done it's job.

Convulsions came next, starting as a tremor in the hand that was bit. It ricocheted across her body, leaving her heaving in terror on the ground. She thought maybe, just maybe she could survive this, but then her vision started to fade. Flicker. Bob in and out. How? How had she gotten this close, this far, this place... only to be taken out by a spider? Perhaps that's what they wanted to see, out there. This was the gripping drama. Perhaps the Gamemakers were pushing to a finale and had deemed her uninteresting. Too far out from the others to be useful in the final fight. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps. A thousand perhapses tumbled through her mind as she clawed at the ground, trying to find a way to relieve the intense pain that was building in her chest.

It had to be over soon, she wagered. Unless this was a particularly sick Gamemaker. Maybe that was it. A slow venom to kill. A worthwhile moment of television. If so, no. She would not give it to them. She rolled onto her side, cradling her arm close to herself. Even as the venom forced the occasional, involuntary kick or spasm, she would not show them her face. They would not get to see. This, she would keep private.

Then she heard the familiar ding! ding! that she had been so blessed with throughout her time. A gift. But what could would it do now? Perhaps it was a knife, something to end this suffering faster. It didn't matter. She heard the soft thump as the canister landed beside her. She fought her own muscles to get a hold of it and twist it open. A small boxed meal tumbled out. Useless. How unfortunate - someone had wasted their money sending her a meal that she'd never get to eat. And there was no one around to even pass it along to, if she could have done so.

She went to drop the canister by her side and accept her death when a small vial tumbled out. It was tiny - no more than a few drops of whatever liquid was in it. She grabbed at it. No knife, but fine - a poison may as well be the same. She had no regard. No thoughts. Maybe it was a pain reliever, meant to ease her passage. Maybe it was poison to speed it along. Who cared at this point? She struggled to get the lid off and downed the full contents, just barely squeezing it past her tightening trachea.

Instantly, the effects of the spider bite reversed. It was as if she had swallowed pure aloe; the acidity in her bloodstream evaporated and her throat opened as if she had never had trouble breathing ever in her life. If anything, her lungs were free even of the slight cough all miners had. She glanced down at the bottle to see a very simple word: antivenom. How wonderful, how horrific, that these bottles existed at all, ready at a moment's notice to be sent to Tributes. If the price was right.

She scrambled for the canister and found the note from Mahlon. No - from the entire District. How late had he been up? How closely had he been watching? That he could see the need, identify the cause, and send the relief? It didn't matter. Or rather, it did, but it was unexplainable. She burst into tears, found her way to her knees, and put up her hands in thanks before turning to the meal.

The canary wasn't out of the running yet.

[honourablejester]

Watership Down traumatised the absolute fuck out of me, apparently, because I saw this cute picture and all I could think of was the destruction of Sandleford Warren scene:

(WARNING: DO NOT PLAY THIS if you have any form of claustrophobia or fear of suffocation).

... Excellent book/movie, do not get me wrong. I remember it fondly. But it will definitely fuck you up.

[the-smallest-star]

A stain on perfection

“Shit shit shit SHIT!” James had never ran so fast in his life, Brutus was an animal as his axe swung through the air. While James managed to avoid it the shockwave sent him flying, jamming the spear into the ground to stop himself from sailing into a nearby wall. The crowds cheers were so loud and James barely had another second to recover before Brutus was on him again, the hilt of his axe hitting him square in the chest and dislodging him from the spear.

Skidding across the dirt to a chorus of ‘ooo’s  James felt the wind knocked from him. He had to get up, even if he didn’t win the rules were to fight until he couldn’t.

“Whats the matter half breed, pampered little prince can’t put up a fight?” Brutus taunted as he dragged the axe behind him with a smirk.  James staggered to his feet, hand on his chest as he winced. Nothing broken... just probably bruised. Thats when Brutus came at him again. A swing from the right... okay then. James jumped and this time latched his claws onto the demon’s arm making them hiss slightly. Flinging James up he didn’t expect the prince to then bring his leg around to kick him square across the face.

The crowd erupted as James landed and stumbled and Brutus staggered back nursing his jaw for a moment in surprise.

“He’s doing better than expected.” Tirritus commented, glancing at Ebony who watched the fight intently. Despite her calm expression he could see subtle differences in her body language, “You’re worried my Queen?” “Don’t overstep Tirritus, I want your gaze on Brutus. We know he lacks restraint.” Ebony replied coldly, the adviser’s gaze snapping back to Brutus on her command.

As Brutus was checking his jaw he felt a sharp pain in his leg and roared, looking down to see James had gotten back his spear and slashed across it before moving to avoid the axe that threatened to hit him again. He wasn’t quick enough as Brutus’s hand shot out, grabbing James by the tail. He swung him up and slammed him into the ground as James gave a sharp gasp in pain. He was so very grateful for the armor he was given. Spear still in hand however he jammed it into Brutus’s arm making the demon bellow, he pressed a palm against the demon’s hand in an attempt to use his magic... Brutus snarled as pain shot up his arm and released his grip on James’s tail.

Scrambling James needed to put some distance between them, but Brutus was swift as he slammed the axe into James’s back. The half breed was flung across from the impact, feeling a heat across his back he knew was blood. The armor had saved him from a more devastating injury.

The fight continued; magic, spear vs axe and claws and teeth used until Brutus had enough. Claws digging into sand as James took a swing he flung his arm up, blinding the prince and grabbing him by the arm. Repeatedly he slammed James, releasing him after the 5th blow against the ground in which the helmet came flying off.

Everything hurt, James grit his teeth as he tried to get up only to find the large fist of the demon grab him by his face and haul him off the ground. Brutus began to squeeze.

James couldn’t breath. He couldn’t breath. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t get out of his grip and his vision was going blurry as the pressure increased.

If you think you’re going to die tap twice.

Reaching James tapped twice and the gong sounded.

But Brutus didn’t stop. “We’re done when I say we’re done half breed. A stain like you needs to be dealt with.” He rumbled. It hurt. It hurt and James couldn’t breath. His legs kicked and scratched, claws trying to dig in and trying to muster up any energy he had. But it was depleting.

He was aware Ebony was on the pitch, a blade as black as night as she was roaring an order at Brutus. He didn’t know what she was saying but she was aiming for the captain as guards were also charging in.

Everything went red... and then black.

[red-hemlock]

not on his blog but "HOT DAMN!" from richardo .

Send me “HOT DAMN!” and my muse will strip for your muse.

@beatsdrums (For visibility.)

@culebral (For the intended muse.)

// (Pray) ‘Till I go blind. //

// (Pray) ‘Cause nobody ever survives… //

Midnight in this shithole of a city, and she the temptation slithers across the bed with a fluid finesse… Rising ‘Eden’ to the writhing, salivating sinner before her, come this night in desire to sacrifice to the temple of flesh and debauchery; but here on this silk-covered ‘podium’, she was His idol. Deadly and warm. His empress always, clothed in sweet black lace that falls in too-promising a whisper; and bares supple, freckled skin to red ambiance. 

But not at all for the stupid fool bound to the bedposts.

// Prayin’ to stay in your arms just until I can die a little longer. //

// Saviors and saints, devils and heathens alike…. //

A knee falls strong to the crescendo of the tune wailing in the background. Crushing a tender throat, and all hope of her prey to taste ‘Heaven’ before she begins sending him straight to Hell in a slow-spiral. No quarter given. No mercy to be had. The murderess turns over-shoulder to look at Him across the room.

The one whom this whole hedonistic display was meant for.

“…You’re ‘ruining’ my hit, Specs.” Simply said, and with a flick of the wrist the little lacey number is tossed to Richard’s feet, as the choking struggles of a tied man desperate to spare himself from suffocation fall on deaf ears. But those eyes and lip-bitten smirk beckon with a wicked brand of command.

She was in control.

// She’ll eat you alive. //

[infamouslydorky]

Honestly upsetting how many issues would be solved if billionaires were content with having their income capped at 999,999,999.99 and the rest of their profits went to taxes but instead we have a situation where they're almost trillionaires and people are dying in the streets because of poverty and negligence

[vanya-imyarek]

Death by Ivy

Ancient Greeks considered ivy a plant sacred to Dionysus. On jars and gables, the god and his followers were depicted draped in it as they drank, danced, played in a triumph of unbridled life; or as they tore apart their enemies in a violent, bloody frenzy of death.

Looking at the trees covered in ivy, I can't absolutely figure out how the Greeks thought this plant could be exciting in any way.

-

"The trees are dying because of the ivy" said my father.

"Is that so?"

"This vine is suffucating them, stealing all the ground's nutrients. See how there aren't any leaves on them? These trees are all dead. Up to a little while ago, it was farmers who took care of eradicating it ... but now, almost nobody actually passes by there, and no one cares for the plants"

-

Up to the old stone bridge, the path is beautiful, especially now in the early spring. From the lush green of the grass, pops out the blue and purple of wild flowers; the trees are still bare, but their branches are heavy with gems ready to burst into new leaves. Walking, you might disturb some water fowl, or be forced to a stop by a wild rabbit's mad dash up to the bank of the canal.

Up to the old stone bridge, the path really is beautiful.

-

The shift isn't immediate once you pass the stone bridge. The path, down to its basic, look the same: a small road of clay, carved more by thousands of human feet that from actual work, next to a canal. Grass and trees all around. A lovely country picture.

But the flowers have stopped growing. Now, in spring, it's the first sign of change. The grass is unperturbed, of a just a little duller shade than before.

But after a few steps it becomes clear: it's the ivy. You can't even talk about trees anymore: the ivy has entirely covered their trunks, leaving out only the highest branches of some.

You could look at it poetically, and say that the trees look like they are wearing soft, woolen green coats. But there are no gems on those trees. The branches are bare. The trunks, what little of them can be seen, are grey or white. The only color that can be seen here is the uniform dark green of the ivy.

-

I have found a fallen tree today. Nothing surprising, the wind has blown unusually strong the past few days. Its roots were enveloped in ivy, but not the trunk. It was one of the few trees relatively untouched, and now it's gone.

Really, the path doesn't like outliers.

-

Last time, I had stopped my walk and turned back when I had found the fallen tree.

It is still there, but these walks are preparing me to a pilgrimage that will be even longer and harder, especially with a body like mine. Today, I have stepped over the tree and continued on the path.

There are trees on both sides of it, now, growing on the canal bank. Or at least, they used to grow.

The second fallen tree I find has actually fallen because of the ivy.

It was entirely covered by it, the wood under rotted, and then it was unable to substain itself. It was a rather big tree once. The ivy still prospers in its dull green, feeding on the decomposition.

I draw a deep breath and look around. The air is still. The canal has suffered from more than a year of drought, the water doesn't even have the strenght to run, stagnating in a dull, pale brown. No fish ever breaks the surface.

Every tree around me is covered in ivy, the trunks barely visible under the dull green coats. I can see what is left of them only by looking up: skeletrical branches, who haven't seen a gem in who knows how long. No bird ever perches on them.

These trees once had gems, once had deep vibrant green leaves and brighter, fresher ones; perhaps flowers, perhaps even fruits. Birds elected them for their nests, they raised their new generations among their branches.

And in the meantime, the ivy had started growing. It started hugging their roots, just a little, delicately as if not to disturb. And every year its hug was a little higher up the trunk, the weave of vines a little tighter. Nobody cared about it, about that hug becoming a chokehold. The trees suffucated slowly, losing more and more of their leaves and flowers every year; the birds, smart creatures as they are, deserted them long before they turned into the miserable husks I see now.

It is a terrible thing, death by ivy.

I can't help but think my presence is very befitting of this place. I turn around and slowly walk away.

-

Today I step over the tree cast down by ivy. It is bigger than the former, but still not too difficult to overstep, even with a body that always seem to malfunction somehow. My family keeps telling me that I should see more doctors, but I manage. I have managed insofar.

The scenery doesn't change. The still desolation of air, water and earth stays the same.

Eventually, I come across a third fallen tree. It is white, devoid of ivy. It is quite big and looks sturdy; I can't figure out what made it fell.

It had thick, long branches; getting past it will be more difficult than the other two. Fitting: I know that if I walk past it, I will have to continue on my pilgrimage, and I will not be able to go back, one way or the other.

I feel tired. I don't think my body can carry me for much more on the path.

I step forward, and walk over the third fallen tree.

-

The ivy starts creeping over me the moment I reach the other side. It crawls from the fallen trees, from the dry ground; it envelopes around my shoes.

I weakly shake it away. The ivy keeps coming.

It clings around my feet, starts climbing to my legs. I can no longer walk. Well, this is expected. I lose sensation to my lower body. Most would say I have to pull harder, I have to run; but my legs have been hurting for so long, it's good not to feel it anymore.

The ivy keeps climbing, around my waist, around my chest. As it should: it was the part that has been hurting for the longest time. The vines have begun poking at my flesh, growing new branches inside of it. Riight, it is too soft, to fragile. It has always been so, even if others have denied it; finally a confirmation.

The ivy envelopes my arms; I don't think it changes much, I never used them for anything worthwhile before. They can go. I hope that the ivy is quick to reach my head.

Must have heard my thoughts, damned plant! It takes the longest time even touching my neck. The pressure around my chest is really beginning to be painful, and this thing won't even let me choke properly!

It creeps, little by little; it covers my throat, but does not exercise too much pressure, again; I still feel suffucating, but I'm not, I'm left hanging to life. Move on, damnit! Take this disgusting breath away from me! I have never wanted anything more!

It creeps, little by little; it covers my cheeks, my eyes; now I can see nothing but the dull, dark green of theh ivy. My breath is haggard, every time more difficult, but it seems like it can't ever get difficult enough, it seems like I'll never know the peace. Little by little. The ivy has covered me entirely. I must be completely indistinguishble from any other tree trunks. Who know how many of them were people who failed the pilgrimage. Who knows how many others will pass by me.

I'm too tired to care. This thing I called my body is already rotting, feeding the parasitic plant. I have known it was rotting for a long time. And I keep being fully aware, and I will keep being for who knows how long, submerged by the monotonous, lifeless foliage.

It is a terrible thing, death by ivy.

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

👻

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕪

Send a symbol for a drabble/short piece of writing about my muse's ...👻 Loss they suffered.

"Mom! I'm home!"

He called over the cars outside, shutting the door to the busy street behind him only to be met with a strange silence. Robin cocked a brow and pulled off his jacket, laughing somewhat nervously. "Ma?" He exclaimed again, hanging his coat and scarf, sliding out of his shoes and placing them on the stand. He racked his brain for a moment, finally checking his pocketwatch to verify the time, 10:23am. Did they go out? Maybe food shopping...but didn't they just go last week?

Robin couldn't help the strange sinking feeling that was slowly growing in his stomach as he walked down the hall, peeking around to the living room and dining room. "Hellooo? Anyone home?" But once again he was met with silence, the only sound to answer him was the creaking under his socked feet. He sighed and shook his head, eventually coming towards the kitchen where he stopped midstep. He could hear the faucet still on and the swing door of the kitchen was open. Not by much but...it was pushed out maybe by 4 or so inches, a puddle of what he assumed to be water was peeking out from the crack.

He couldn't explain the way every hair follicle on his arm began to stand at attention when he opened the door slightly with a raised eyebrow, his gaze scanning to see no one there. Robin peered downward and saw the shattered glass, trailing it back to the hand that had been previously holding it.

"WREN?!"

Robin slammed the door open, nearly slipping on the water as he skidded down to his knees to pick up his little brother's head, checking for injuries before he saw the wide, blank eyes staring back at him. Wren's mouth hung open with foam on either side and his face was a sickly shade of greenish purple. Panic set in and he wiped his mouth, feeling for a pulse and setting him down on the floor, holding his brother's nose and breathing air into him. "Wren--Wren--" He gasped each time, listening to his heart before he pulled him up into his arms, now very aware of the distinct hissing sound that came from the stairwell leading down into the basement.

Terror turned into a vice grip.

"LINNY? MO-MOM?!" He shrieked, slipping slightly on the wet floor as he started to carry his brother down the hall, his heart pounding in his ears like a warning signal to get out. To run--but he couldn't listen. "DAD?!" He shrieked, kicking open the door to Linnet's room, the light from the hall pouring in as he scurried inside, laying Wren down and turned his sister over by her shoulder. Closed eyes and mouth. Her body was slack and he fell backwards, cupping his mouth in horror as he screamed, scrambling back only to smack his spine against the frame of the door. His voice turned harsh and gruff from the volume and he scrambled to his feet again, nearly smacking into the wall within his own confusion.

The wave of dizziness hit him as he stared back into his parent's room, a wave of cloudiness washing over him before he covered his mouth and began to violently cough into his palm. He pulled away his hand only for saliva to splatter onto the hardwood underneath him, the room beginning to spin as his lungs filled with more and more of the leaked toxin. He closed his eyes tight and listened for the sound of traffic, catching onto a carhorn blaring from outside and he followed it, feeling his way as his eyes began to burn. Eventually he peeked his bleary eyes open to find the door handle, shoving it open to trip down the concrete steps onto the sidewalk as he gasped for air.

He turned onto his side with a convulsive wheeze, raspy croaks filling his ears before it turned into wet gargling. Robin held his sides tightly as he spat up vomit, foam and saliva, tears riddling his vision. A few strangers approached him cautiously, one trying to give him water but he was in too much of a panic to take it, his cries swirled and merged with the traffic of the street.  

On a pole nearby, a crow took note of him.

[mypurplewinee]

this is masterpiece

Vicious

a/n: This ended up being so much longer than I expected?? Geez I hope it's actually good. This is 100% the first ever fanfic I've written and actually posted somewhere please be gentle. I've gone over this so many times to make sure it's decent that it now seems dumb to me lmao anywaaay I hope y'all enjoy! I might do a second part to this if people actually enjoy it? I also had a lot of inspiration listening to this while writing: Ripping Me Apart

Summary: MC lashes out at dinner one night over what happened in the attic; later has a confrontation with Belphegor himself.

Warnings/Tags: spoilers for lesson 16, mentions of death, murder, suffocation, cussing, mentions of dead body, pissed off MC, angst I guess? if i forgot anything let me know!

Word Count: 5.1k Those who asked to be tagged in this monstrosity: @yaboihack @hornehlittleweeblet2 @talesfrom0pheliaa @dee-zbignuts The Apologies: Beelzebub, Satan, Mammon Asmodeus, Leviathan

"What doesn't kill me makes me Vicious" ~Halestorm

Seven months had passed since your arrival to the Devildom, in that time you had learned to live with the demons around you and started to become friends with them even. It helped to have another human around, if that’s what you could call him, even if he was a little sketchy at times. The angels were also a nice addition, they helped you remember that not everyone was trying to eat you. However, in your short time here, you had tempted fate and escaped death more times than you would have liked but somehow you were still alive and managing to keep up with your class work. The one thing you seemed to have messed up was trying to reunite a family of demons. Saying it out loud you realized how dumb it sounded, but at the time you thought it was a good idea. You knew what it was like to have a family torn apart over something stupid, maybe that’s why you felt so bad when Beelzebub had told you about his twin. Maybe you were trying to fix their family the way you wished you could fix yours…or maybe you were just bored. Either way you had gone to the attic and opened Pandora’s box it seemed, and in the end you suffered more than you ever imagined you would.

It had been three weeks since Belphegor had been freed from his attic prison. Three weeks since he had rejoined his brothers in the house and at RAD. Three weeks since your death… you try not to think about that part too much. You keep your mind occupied during the day by focusing on your work, making sure you get to dinner on time, you even got a job just to keep busy. At night though it was difficult to keep the memories away, you do your best to distract yourself so you can fall asleep, putting headphones in and listening to music or leaving the TV on just to fill the silence. It wouldn’t be as bad if the six demons that you spent so much time with weren’t acting as if nothing happened. The brothers all seem to have moved on, they go about their days like normal, like they never gathered around your limp body and as if Mammon hadn’t held you in his arms while you took your last breath. You're not about to start a fight with seven demons, considering how the fight with one had gone, but you also are not about to forgive so quickly. Belphie has tried to cozy up to you as if he didn’t strangle you with his own hands, like he didn’t laugh at you while you gasped for air. You don’t want to upset the others by drastically rejecting him (you’re the one who freed him after all) so you gently brush him off, removing yourself from situations that would leave you two alone. You had walked him to class that first day when his brothers all ditched him but once you arrived at RAD you had darted off to your classroom. You want to forgive him, you really do, that’s just who you are as a person. You consider seeing a therapist because you're pretty sure this counts as some kind of horrible trauma disorder but regardless, part of you wants to try and see the good in him. Nothing about the other six brothers behavior sits well with you though. Why are they all so casually ignoring the fact that the youngest had killed you only weeks prior?? Three of them had become very close friends to you, you spent most of your free time with them goofing off and getting into trouble. The other three you weren’t as close with but two had liked you enough to make pacts with you so why were they all so quick to forget the murder that happened?

You try to ignore it, to suck it up and keep your thoughts to yourself. “Only a few months left and then I go home” you try to tell yourself. But then it happened. The dinner where everything came to a head. It had been a pretty normal day, you were a little annoyed at the grade you received on a pop quiz but other than that everything was okay. The brothers were all happily discussing their days and that was fine, but then one of them made a mistake.

“Look at how well we’re all getting along! And it’s all thanks to MC!” and another had responded

“Yeah, we used to try and kill each other at every meal!”

That was it, the last straw. Maybe that quiz pissed you off more than you thought, or maybe you had just been holding back this anger for too long. Before you knew it you were laughing hysterically, eyes starting to water, face turning red. The room was silent aside from your laughter and all eyes were on you now, while you wanted to feel embarrassed by your own sudden outburst, the rage you felt was far stronger. You kept your eyes on your plate and could feel your fists clenching, your laughter dying off but the tears still trying to form in your eyes, you always hated being an angry crier.

“MC…. a-are you alright?”

Your head was spinning at this point, unaware of which brother was asking that absurd question, it could’ve been Levi or it could’ve been Asmo. At this point you didn’t care, the fire inside you was now blazing through your lungs and down into your stomach. You’d done so well to keep your composure down here, trying to not upset Lucifer by “disgracing him or Diavolo”, trying to behave and be the good and well put together human they thought you were. Fuck that.

“Alright? Am I alright?” You raised your head to finally meet the seven sets of eyes all watching you. “Did you seriously just ask…IF I WAS ALRIGHT??” Your voice was much higher pitched than you had anticipated at the end but at this point that was the least of your concerns.

“MC, darling- “

“Don’t ‘darling’ me!” They want to know how you feel? Fine, here comes seven months of built-up rage. “I was literally KILLED three weeks ago! And you wanna know if I’m alright think about that for a minute!” You felt the air in the room change, five demons now looking anywhere except at you. “I’ve been trying my best to keep up with my studies down here so I don’t disappoint Lord Diavolo or the exchange program while simultaneously playing family therapist for seven demons! AND YOU WANT TO KNOW IF I’M ALRIGHT!” You were standing now; your chair had flown back without you noticing.

“MC there’s no need to raise your voice nor is there need for this discussion during din-”

“YES THERE IS!” You snapped your head to stare down the first born. The fear you had felt that night in the catacombs when you shielded Luke and Beel was gone. The catacombs… that was the first time Lucifer had nearly killed you. You were protecting his younger brother and yet he had rushed you in his demon form and accused you of trying to bring harm to his family. You saw the shock in his face, not only had you dared to talk back, but you had also yelled at him. You could tell he was about to start arguing with you again. That’s not happening, not tonight.

“Since my first day here you’ve drilled into my head that if I ever brought harm to your brothers, if I ever went against you or Diavolo, or if I ever brought shame to the exchange program, you’d show me no mercy! So I’ve busted my ass to do well in my classes! I’ve attended every little event Diavolo has thrown, I’ve jumped through every hoop you and Diavolo have held up to me! I did my best to get along with your brothers and help them with their problems! Yet I guess that wasn’t good enough since you tried to kill me yourself three different times! You claim to be such a powerful demon and you act like the three worlds revolve around this exchange program SO WHERE WERE YOU WHEN BELPHEGOR HAD HIS HANDS AROUND YOUR PRECIOUS EXCHANGE STUDENTS THROAT AND THEY WERE LOSING AIR?!”

Lucifer winced at your words. How dare you speak to him like that, who did you think you were acting like this in front of his brothers? He wanted to retaliate, to put you in your place and make you remember who were talking to. But you were right, he had done all those things and more. Just when he thought you had shattered his pride as much as a human could, you started in again.

“WHERE WERE ANY OF YOU?” You whipped your head around to look at the rest, all of them avoiding your gaze. “You expect me to believe NONE of you heard the noise coming from the attic? That none of you HEARD ME SCREAMING?” you watched Beel tense up as your voice got louder. You had never yelled like this before; you’d never been angry like this with them. Part of you felt bad for Beelzebub, all he wanted was for his family to be whole again and for you to be a part of it…then you remembered how he almost killed you over a pudding and destroyed your bedroom in the process. You looked over at Asmo, Levi and Satan, all three looking at the floor trying their best to not make eye contact. Leviathan was on the verge of tears, his face a deep red and he started to sink lower into his chair, Asmodeus was picking at the sleeve of his sweater and biting his lip, Satan looked the most uncomfortable out of all the brothers, most likely trying his best to not turn into his demon form thanks to the rage you were giving off. You hadn’t noticed until now but you could feel his pact on you burning, the heat from it only made you angrier. You had made pacts with all but one by this point, five of them when the incident happened, yet none of them had been there to protect you. Protect you. You looked over to Mammon and quickly wished you hadn’t. The second born had one hand wrapped around his stomach and the other covering his mouth to muffle his sobs. His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, you could see him lightly shaking. You wanted so desperately to be angry with him as well but the best you could come up with was how rude he had been your first few weeks here and the fact that he too had dismissed Belphie’s actions. In all honesty he had been the nicest to you during your stay, you’d spent so much time together, he always made sure to include you in anything going on in the house. So why had he been so quick to forgive Belphie? That’s when the image came back to you, the one you had tried so desperately to forget, the one with your dying body. Walking in and seeing yourself beaten and bruised, laying in his arms. Oh god his arms! Mammon had been the one holding your broken body, tears running down his face as he caressed yours, trying so desperately to get you to stay with him. He had been the one to hold you as you took your final breath. That was why Mammon had dismissed it, he was trying to forget just like you were. The rage was growing again, this time with more ammo.

“You know what else pisses me off? The fact that all of you talk down and belittle Mammon and yet HE WAS THE ONE TO HOLD MY DYING BODY! You all act like he’s some heartless scumbag but he was the one who had to feel me actually die! I don’t want to hear any of you call him a scumbag ever again do you understand?” You knew you were getting off track, this was a speech for a different time and yet you received nods from all five brothers in your line of sight. At least they were listening, and all seemed ashamed, well…all but one. You could see him from the corner of your eye, you’d been avoiding him up until this point simply because that was how you’d spent the last three weeks, but now you could see him with that stupid smirk on his face. Was he enjoying his brothers misery? Or was he proud of what he had put you through? It didn’t matter, you had enough anger built up and you were ready to let it explode.

“You think this is funny? Is this all just some sick joke to you? Do you know how hurt Beelzebub was thinking you were off in the human world unhappy and against your will? You think you have all humans figured out, don’t you? We’re all just dumb little play toys for you, aren’t we? You don’t know a damn thing about me. I spent seven months getting to know your brothers and helping them reconnect and solve their problems! I felt bad for you being locked up there away from your family! I thought it was unfair that Lucifer would lock you away and then lie to your brothers! I wanted to help you! I TRUSTED YOU!” The smirk on Belphie’s face disappeared the moment you started in on him, replaced by a look of discomfort and embarrassment. Good, you wanted him to be hurt.

“And as a thank you for all that I did,” you put your hands on the table and leaned in towards him “you decided to put your hands around my throat and suffocate me until I blacked out. You dragged my body down from the attic and presented your kill like a proud hunting dog to your brothers that I’d spent months helping.” Your eyes narrowed and you clenched your fists once more, “Then you gave me the saddest excuse for an apology I’ve ever heard and immediately expected me to forgive you and suddenly act like we’ve been friends for years? No, absolutely not. Do you know why I made a pact with you so quickly after what happened? It wasn’t because I forgave you, it was so I could stop you if you ever tried to KILL ME AGAIN!” Belphie jumped at that last part, any joy he got from listening to you rip into his brothers had been smashed as you made him face the truth of his actions. You felt yourself shaking, the hot wet tears on your cheeks, your jaw clenched shut. You wanted to throw something, to break everything in the room, to scream at the top of your lungs in frustration. But you knew you had said enough, you were sure you’d be lectured by Lucifer later when he found the nerve, so you straightened up and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath and prepared to swallow your pride, something Lucifer could learn to do himself.

“If you’ll excuse me.” You turned sharply and headed straight to your room; you had considered saying sorry but quickly got over it. As soon as they heard your bedroom door shut, the brothers all took off to their own rooms, all but Lucifer who stayed at the table reviewing what had just happened in his mind. He let out a deep sigh and then placed his head in his hands, elbows propped up on the table, so much for the nice family dinner.

************************************************************************

While the others had all returned to their respective rooms, Belphegor had retreated to the attic, too ashamed to face his twin right now. He felt some comfort up there, away from the others and alone with his thoughts. Then his thoughts turned against him. He tried desperately to ignore them, tossing and turning on the bed, trying to just fall asleep and forget the entire evening but your words were echoing in his head “as thanks for all that I did” he squeezed his eyes shut. No, don’t do it. “You put your hands around my throat!” an image flashed in Belphie’s mind. Stop, please just let it go away. Belphie opened his eyes in hopes to make it all stop but instead it only intensified. In some cruel irony he had opened his eyes to face the exact spot it happened, and he could remember it all so vividly. You had begged and pleaded for him to stop but he kept going, taking every last ounce of oxygen you had. He remembered how it felt as you fought against his grip, you had kicked and clawed at him; he still had scratch marks on his arms that he kept covered. You had used all the strength you had left to fight back. And then you had gone limp.

“STOP IT!” Shocked by his own voice, Belphie covered his mouth. What had he done? You had been so genuine in your quest to free him, you had been nice to him from the very beginning, and he went and did that to you. He suddenly felt sick. Sitting up on the edge of the bed and gripping the sheets as if they’d save him from the guilt that was consuming him, Belphie now faced the door to his room. He remembered your first encounter, how you had seemed so concerned about his state of being and when you asked about his identity he lied. He remembered how you had come back after putting the pieces together and asked him why he had lied, and he told you about his fall out with Lucifer, and then lied some more to you. You put yourself through so much for him, for his brothers, for a bunch of demons who couldn’t solve their own problems, and all he had done up until now was lie to you. He had wanted to hate you so badly for no reason other than being human, he could remember the minute he had started putting his plan together and how he had felt knowing you would never be the wiser. But you kept coming back and it started getting harder to hate you. Every visit you would talk to him like he was an equal, unlike when Lucifer came by and spoke to him like a caged animal, and with every visit he became more frustrated and confused. You were just some human, part of the reason that they had lost Lilith, so why was it becoming harder to hate you? He could remember laying in bed staring at the attic ceiling, wondering what you were doing and what it was like to hang out with you. Did his brothers feel this way? Is that why three of them had formed pacts with you so easily? By the time he was freed his mind was a whirlpool of conflicting emotions, he hated the fact that it was no longer easy to be angry at you, he hated that you were so trusting, he hated Lucifer for putting him in that musty old room to start with. Before he knew it his hands were around your throat, everything during the moment felt like a blur, but now after being three weeks free and after watching you viciously tear into him and his brothers, remembering that moment happened in slow motion. Every noise you made seemed deafening and it was like he could feel your pulse dropping in his hands again. Then even after all of that, you had been the one to wait around and walk him to RAD his first day back and had been helping him repair his relationships with his brothers. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew his brothers had been avoiding him for good reason, he knew he fucked up, but he never expected you to be the only one to show him a sliver of kindness after what he did. At some point Belphie had slid off the bed, now he was kneeling on the floor fighting back tears, his throat felt tight and his body was starting to tremble. He had to fix this. ************************************************************************

Four hours had passed since your little outburst, yet you found yourself still riding the adrenaline high. Sleeping was pointless while you were this wound up so you had started reorganizing your room, not that it was helping you clear your mind. You were thrilled you had finally given them a piece of your mind, but you also knew now began the hardest part. You didn’t want to sever your ties with them, you enjoyed laughing and hanging out with the brothers, but you needed them to understand that dismissing what happened was NOT going to work. You started to wonder who the first to approach you would be, how long would it take before they looked at you without guilt covering their faces? You’d probably have to bully your way into Levi’s room in order to repair things with him. That was fine, he could wait, after all he also made an attempt on your life over a stupid contest. You were lost in your own thoughts but suddenly pulled back to reality when you heard a small noise outside your door. Walking closer you could make out the sound of someone quietly crying, you felt a sting in your chest and checked the time. Midnight, that meant it was either Beelzebub who had wandered over after getting his late-night snack or Mammon who would probably stay outside your room all night and then pretend he had just showed up when you came out for breakfast the next morning. You weighed your options and then decided, might as well start fixing things now since sleep was still evading you. You opened the door and prepared yourself for the sad puppy eyes of the second or sixth born but felt anxious when you discovered it was neither. Instead, standing outside your door with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants, was Belphie. He kept his head low and turned away from you, but you could still see his bloodshot eyes and the semi dried tear stains on his cheek, it was painfully obvious he had been crying much harder than he was now at some point.

“Do you need something?” your voice flat as you looked him up and down. He was in pajamas so he clearly had not planned on showing up here to pull something, but you kept your guard up.

“Can we talk?” his voice was barely audible and gave hints that he was on the verge of breaking. You shifted your weight as you stood in the doorway and thought about the question. While it sounded like some cheesy line from a bad sitcom and you thought about how fun it would be to slam the door in his face while he looked like a kicked puppy, you also considered how entertaining this might become. He came to your room to talk about something, and you wanted to find out what, but more importantly you wanted to see just how far you could push him in this state.

“Fine.” You moved out of the doorway and waited for him to enter; you could see him hesitate before doing so. It wasn’t until he stopped between your bed and the couch you had bought recently that you realized this was the first time he had actually been inside your room, he had stood out in the hall with Beel a few times when collecting you for dinner, but you had never invited him in. You watched as his eyes scanned your room and then landed on you, his form stiffening as he made eye contact.

“What do you want Belphie.” He shifted his gaze and whispered something in response.

“You’ll have to speak at a real volume, us humans don’t have the superior hearing you demon have I’m sure.” You were getting agitated again, it was late and he was wasting your time.

“I-I wanted to say…”

“Say what?”

“I’m trying to say…”

“Not trying very hard apparently!”

“Please just let me-“

“Let you what? Come up with some half assed apology again? Tell me another lie? Fool me enough to let my guard down so you can try and kill me again?? What do you want Belphegor? I’m not standing here all night while you waste my time SPIT IT OUT!”

“I’M SORRY ALRIGHT! I KNOW YOU DON’T CARE BUT I’M SORRY!”

You did it, without even trying you had pushed him over the edge. You watched him begin to fall apart, fat tears pouring from his eyes, his body starting to shake violently as he sobbed, you let him have his little breakdown.

“You didn’t d-deserve what I did! Y-you only wanted to h-help me and my brothers! I’m sorry! For every horrible thing I said and for putting you through that!”

You had to admit he was putting on one hell of a performance, you almost felt pity for him…almost.

“Can you ever forgive me for what I did?” his voice cracked this time.

Oh? So that’s his little goal, he came down here seeking forgiveness? He wants to put on a show in hopes that you’ll forgive him for his actions. At least this performance was better than that sorry excuse of an apology he had given you in front of the others. But why now? He had literally murdered you three weeks ago and was furious when you appeared before his brothers as they gathered around your corpse, it wasn’t until Diavolo had told them about…Lilith… that’s what this was about.

“Why should I? So you can feel better about yourself? So your dead sister won’t hate you? That’s what this is all for right? So you won’t look bad in Lilith’s eyes?”

“N-no it has nothing to do with- “

“LIAR! You couldn’t care less about what I think, you said it yourself, I’m just some stupid human! This little show is all for HER! Well guess what? I’m. Not. LILITH!” You felt your anger come flooding back to you, your dead ancestor or whatever she was to you was the whole reason any of this was happening in the first place. The more you thought about her, about your entire situation down here, the more you could feel the fire inside you growing. Satan’s pact burning on your skin once more, the fear you once had was long dead, all you felt was a burning rage. You thought that by now, after all you had been through, your fight or flight instinct would autopilot to flight in the face of conflict, but in this moment your entire body was choosing fight. You had lost the first fight against Belphegor because he caught you off guard, but this time you were ready and even if he killed you again you were gonna make sure you left your mark. As mad as you were you also knew better than to start screaming again, that would only bring more of them to your room and right now you had the only demon you needed in your sights. Maybe you were just a little plaything to them, nothing more than an amusing pet, but they screwed up. Six of them made pacts with you, and the human with their pact mark controls said demon, right? You planned to find out soon enough. You started ripping into Belphie again, telling him off once more, reminding him exactly how it felt to die and then to see your dead body, without thinking you had started taking steps towards him and for every step you took forward he took one back. You could see the fear behind his eyes, tears still rolling down his cheeks and body continuing to shake. All these things were feeding something inside you, the arrogant demon who had stolen a part of you was now trembling in front of you for whatever reason. Before you knew it you had him trapped, his back pressed against the wall, Belphie was out of steps to take but you continued forward leaving a very small space between you.

“Admit that this is all for her. Admit that you don’t care about what I think of you!”

“It isn’t! Why won’t you believe me?”

He didn’t need an answer to that, and you knew it, so instead you decided to give into his little act.

“You want my forgiveness?”, you leaned in and your voice deepened “Then beg for it!”

You were almost positive you hadn’t used your pact on him, but you had to think hard on it with how quickly Belphegor dropped to his knees and began sobbing in desperation. He was begging and pleading for your forgiveness, his crying became more violent, the tears fell quickly off his face with a few trailing down his neck occasionally, his voice cracking with every plea. You knew this kind of crying all too well, the kind of cry you let out after a major heartbreak or betrayal; after all you had been in this same position yourself after the incident, the only difference being your face had been pressed into a pillow to quiet the screams and sobs. Nobody would fake this kind of crying, why would they want to? It was far too draining and always left you with a headache afterwards, which meant Belphie actually was trying to apologize. This time you did feel sorry for him, sorry that he had exposed this side of him to you. Now you knew he could be broken, you knew you had the power to bring him to his knees even without the pact. He had called you a ‘weak and pathetic human’ back then but who was the weak, pathetic bitch now?

“I-I’ll do whatever i-it takes to make this up to y-you, I-I’ll do anythi-ing!” He was gasping for air with every word it seemed, truly a pitiful thing to watch. You suddenly got an awful and twisted idea as you tilted your head slightly, you felt a small smile crawl onto your face and you softened your eyes.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I know you will”, you leaned down so that your upper half was looming over his still trembling body. You took his face in your right hand, thumb wiping away tears on one cheek and your fingers pressing gently into the other, you made sure his eyes were locked on yours. “I’ll make sure of that.”

He wanted to make it up to you so badly? He wanted to be your friend? To be as close to you as his brothers were? Fine. But you were going to make him work for it and you’d make sure he worked hard for it too. He’d soon learn who he belonged to. After all, he had wanted the pact between you two, he had asked you to make him yours, so that's exactly what you would do.

“Do you understand?” Your voice was stern and your gaze showed no mercy. Belphie’s voice was shaky and his bottom lip started to quiver but he nodded quickly.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” you tightened your grip on his face slightly.

“Yes, M-master.”