#getting silly with it in the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger

[goopyish]

If I made a fear and hunger oc they'd just be an unrepentant gleeful serial killer going around being the only person happy to be stuck in The Dungeon/Termina. They're seemingly just part of the bloodthirsty rabble that's already ubiquitous to the setting but with a completely intact mental fortitude and willful sadism. Their psyche harmonizes so well with the ambient cruelty that there was never any need for an outside force to take that control from them. They wouldn't be impervious, btw, just unbothered.

[awetfrog]

thank u dungeon nights for making all the yaoi dreams come true

[bunubunss]

they're definitely complaining abt their party

[inthegloamenvy]

Ohhh, Little Funger Lorrel?

His Lore (ahaha) is that he's 46 and desperately trying to find old texts regarding botanical genetics. He basically wants to bring super GMO to the Dark Ages so maybe perhaps we will eat better.

He also really wants something to save himself...he's already getting older, and the Autism makes it hard for him to be taken seriously. He's not sure how much longer people will tolerate him- he wants to be set and safe for the rest of his life.

It's rough out there...but the Dungeons? Free mushrooms. Everywhere.

[cherrixpie]

TO DIE IN YOUR ARMS TONIGHT

PART TWO -> part one

-> after the eventful night at the party you hesitate to tell your brother about your relationship with his best mate, fearing his reaction- but theo doesn't seem to know what's good for him.

-> brother's bsf!theodore nott x riddle!reader; wc: 8.8k; cw: violence, smoking, alcohol, blood, suggestive; sfw; sadly there was some error with the tags and I couldn't tag some people, but I still hope you all found your way here!

( masterlist )

Taboos were a funny thing. Unspoken, implied, and yet, it seemed impossible to break them- making it all the more thrilling to throw them into the wind. Once broken, they settled in the depths of your heart as secrets, blossoming uncontrollable until your whole stomach was a resting whirlwind of pink rose petals, ready to be triggered at any minute. The memories of last night were like hidden-away treasures, replaying in your mind as you walked up the dungeon steps on your way to breakfast. It was as if you could still feel his hands on your skin, his velvety voice in your ears and see the look of hunger and adoration in his cerulean eyes.

Almost subconsciously, you ran your index finger along your thigh below the school skirt you were wearing and felt your stomach flutter at the reemerging memories of last night. Half an hour ago, you'd woken up, feeling more gleeful than ever and only after a few seconds realizing why. But now, it clouded your mind and projected a silly little smile onto your face. Theo was your boyfriend.

You could barely believe it, which didn't make it easier to sort out the conflicting feelings fistfighting each other in the back of your mind. The risk of going out with Theo, the betrayal Mattheo would feel, and the overpowering delight ignited by the mere thought of him, the image of his face, the whisper of his name. God could not have crafted a more perfect man- or a more unreachable one. Because you didn't dare picture what Mattheo might do to the both of you if he found out.

The corridor was quiet, the distant chattering from the Great Hall above growing ever more clear as you approached it. No one crossed your way, you were quite late. The cool stone beneath your fingertips as you trailed your hand along the wall was grounding, steady, until suddenly, it wasn’t. A firm grip caught your wrist, gentle yet insistent, and before you could react, you were being pulled- not harshly, but with a certainty that sent a spark of electricity through your veins.

You barely had time to gasp before your back met the cool stone, and when you looked up, Theo was there, his body caging you in with effortless ease. His breath was warm against your cheek, his hands meeting the wall on either side of your head. An easy smirk danced around your lips and the glinting in his eyes stirred other, more sinful memories in you. Though it was a much different setting than back then, the hunger in them was the same he'd stared at you with when he'd eaten out as if you were his last meal. “Caught you,” he said, under his breath, looking so damn irresistible with the teasing look in his eyes. He seemed much more casual than usual, as well as in a much better mood, and you could understand why.

“I wasn't running,” you replied in an unconvincing effort to keep your voice steady. You swallowed when he leaned in even further and tilted his head, eyes boring into yours as if he knew exactly what was going on in your mind- how you longed for him, for every bit of him, from his blue eyes to the sharp edge of his voice.

His fingers traced up your arm lazily, leaving you struggling to suppress a shudder, and if the flicker of his eyes was any indication, he was perfectly aware of how he made you feel. “No?” he asked with a knowing smile. “Then why do you look so nervous?” Your breath hitched in your throat when his lips hovered over yours, stilling in silent anticipation. You knew he was making you squirm, was getting you all hot and bothered for him so he would have the upper hand. And you were ashamed to admit that it worked.

In an attempt to divert him and avoid suffocating on the heavy tension lingering in the minimal space between you, you said, “I was just on the way to breakfast,” but it came out like a question and you bit down on your tongue when he raised an amused brow.

The intensity of his gaze made you swallow and blink, but you refused to avert your eyes from his pools of blue, refused to give him the satisfaction. “Oh, were you know?” he asked, voice low and laced with sarcastic humour.

Sarcasm. His defining feature. Sometimes you felt like he walked through life, disregarding all worry and bother with a sarcastic smile on his face. But you knew he could be genuine. His gaze would always be understanding when you sought out consolation with him, his smile gentle when you would tell him about your day. Last night, when Campbell had cornered you at the party, there had not been a trace of humor in his cold demeanor. When he’d eaten you out on that desk, he had looked up at you with such sincerity.

You instinctively leaned into the touch of his hand when it came up to rest against your neck, thumb running over your throat with featherlight precision. “You keep walking the halls in that skirt of yours and someone’s going to snatch you up.”

Unconvincingly, you rolled your eyes at him and his protectiveness. Your skirt was perfectly fine. Maybe it was the one from last year. Maybe it rode just a little higher on your thigh. Maybe you’d wanted him to notice and strain himself all day to not let Mattheo catch him looking at you. Maybe all you’d dreamed about that night was the feeling of his hands working on your cunt, producing the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever felt.

“And let me guess,” you said, challengily, and ignored the pounding of your heart against your ribs, “you’re just the right person to keep that from happening?”

Theo dipped down even more, making your eyes flutter shut in the expectancy of a kiss. It came, but it was a mere gentle peck to the corner of your mouth. “No,” he disagreed smoothly, “I’m the only person who is allowed to.”

You had enough. Enough of the tingling teasing of his fleeting touches, enough of the light touch of his lips. Taking initiative, you stood on your tiptoes to meet his lips, but he pulled away, smirking down at your frown. Just a shame you’d discovered how to make him snap last night. Theo smiled as your hand came up to his neck, pulling him down with pleading eyes, and made not the slightest attempt to assist your struggles. So, you had to get out the full arsenals. “Theo,” you whispered, gaze firmly locked on his cerulean eyes. “Theo, baciami.” (Kiss me)

“Maledizione,” cursed Theo through gritted teeth and you knew you’d won. In one fluid motion, both his hands came up to cup your face and his lips clashed onto yours with unknown ferocity. They moved vehemently against yours, eliciting a high-pitched little gasp from you. It made him chuckle into your mouth as his tongue slipped between your lips, taking charge of the kiss.

Though passionate, the kiss was still controlled, no matter how wildly, he still consumed you with meticulous mastery. Every movement of his soft lips, every brush of his fingers, every wandering of his hands was expertly staged to get you riled up. Kisses with Theo were not satisfaction, they were carefully controlled build up. And once you gave into his push, he guided you more and more to a point where you almost moaned against his lips.

One of his hands had wandered down to your hip, then your thigh. Unexpectedly, he gripped the underside of your upper thigh and lifted it, squeezing the flesh between his long fingers. Departing from yours, his lips latched onto your neck, and you pushed wildy against his chest. He broke away, brows furrowed with a hint of irritation, still pressing you against the wall with his whole body and massaging the flesh of your thigh as he held it, lifted up to his waist. “Wh-”

“Mattheo will kill you!” you whispered, voice shaking slightly. Instinctively, you looked up and down the hall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Anyone could walk by. Even if they were another student, they would spread the news around the whole castle and you wouldn’t be spared Mattheo's wrath. You weren’t sure whether he’d be angrier at his best friend for stealing his sister, or at his sister for stealing his best friend, but you did know you weren’t eager to find out.

Theo only laughed lightly at your grim prediction, and the sound was so entrancing that you forgot to be angry at him. Though they spared your neck, his lips traced your jaw with featherlight kisses. “Worth it.”

You felt your breath grow unsteady, not just because of his wandering hands. Hastily, you looked in both directions, up and down the corridor, listening for footsteps, however distant they may be. “It’s not,” you disagreed, biting down on your lip as his fingers slipped beneath your shirt and the calloused tips ran along your bare skin. “Theo, seriously. What if he hurts you? Remember what he did to Dylan Walker?”

Walker had taken you out on a date once, and for that alone, Mattheo had landed him in the hospital wing with second degree burns and a lung full of lake water. When you’d confronted him about it, he had refused to tell you why and Walker had never exchanged another word with you. “Vividly,” said Theo in a dry voice, not even bothering to glance up at you. “I was there.”

“Wha-,” you gasped in indignation, but a sharp pinch of your stomach between his fingers got the words stuck in your throat.

“He talked trash about you,” he explained in an indifferent voice, as if it didn’t matter at all.

You let out a frustrated huff of breath and dug your fingers harshly into his shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. Just because you beat up people and chop at your life expectancy together doesn't mean he won't do the same to you.” There was now actual panic in your voice as you nervously anticipated the steps, the people. Eyes widening, nudging friends, running off to tell the whole school, maybe even Mattheo himself.

But Theo seemed completely unfazed as he trailed kisses up your jaw. “Aren’t you just irresistible, all worried about your boyfriend, carina.”

The use of the word ‘boyfriend’ almost made your thoughts stutter and a tender bloom blossomed in the pit of your stomach. Right. He was your boyfriend. You couldn't suppress the small smile forming on your lips, and by the look he gave you, he knew exactly what he was doing. Theodore Nott was your boyfriend. Not anyone else’s.

All the girls you’d secretly envied when you saw them walk off with him to his dorm in the midst of a rowdy Slytherin party, his arm around their waists, knowing from the stories they told they had to be in for a good time. The following day, you’d visit him at his dorm to do coursework together and try to shut out the fact that on the very bed you sat on, he’d kissed and fucked a girl that wasn’t you. Your gaze would linger on the crumpled up sheets, picturing it, how he would be towards them. Would he be rough, or gentle? Would he be mean, or sweet? Where would his hands wander, where would his lips caress, what would they whisper into the space between the heated bodies?

And then, his voice would pull you out of your sinful thoughts, as he leaned against the headboard and studied your expression, teasing you for your lack of concentration. You wondered whether he had known how it would seize your heart, the way he smiled at you, the way he looked at you. The mere act of regarding you. It was embarrassing, pathetic even, but you felt no greater love and adoration for anyone.

Theo’s thoughts seemed to have wandered off to similar pölaces. As he guided your lips back onto his, he whispered words in between the kisses that made your cheeks burn. “I want everyone to know,” he whispered, and despite your reluctance, you sighed contently against his lips. “I want everyone to know you belong to me,” he said in a murmur, his front pressing against yours.

You nearly choked on your own spit when his thigh slotted neatly into the space between yours, and you were glad your embarrassing little mewl was swallowed up by his hungry lips. “I want them to know,” he repeated, as if it was a mantra, as he devoured your lips over and over again. “I want them to know who they will have to answer to if they ever mess with you again.”

“But who do you answer to?” you asked, voice barely audible in between the hungry ministrations of his lips.

But he understood, you knew he did, somehow he always did. Because he scoffed lightly and tilted your head to give himself better access to your lips. “Not your brother.”

It was hard to concentrate on his words when his hand squeezed your thigh so deliciously and his hips moved teasingly against yours, driving all thoughts about getting caught right out of the forefront of your mind, leaving only thoughts of him, him, him. “He may be my best mate, but he has no damn say in this,” Theo said firmly, voice barely above a whisper but rich with his baritone. “And he’ll have to accept that you are your own person, and you can make decisions for yourself that are right. Not because he approves of them but because you made them.”

All this was whispered hurriedly against your lips and you barely registered half of it, but still, a certain warmth spread in your chest- and not only in your chest. Theo’s lips departed from yours and he looked down at you, noticing your still worried expression as you returned his heavy gaze. Gentle fingers brushed over your face, over the frown, smoothing it out with a smile. Letting out a long sigh, you contemplated his words.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly, suddenly with such disarming tenderness that you swallowed.

“Alright,” you breathed out, voice still full of doubt. You weren’t at all convinced that Mattheo would accept the fact that you were your own person, and even less convinced that he would resolve the issue without violence. The last thing you wanted was for Theo to get hurt. But then again, they were best mates. Maybe Theo would finally be the one he would accept, he would deem worthy of you. How ridiculous that notion was. The more Mattheo kept you away from boys, the more desperate you got- hence Terry Campbell. But maybe he would see how misguided his previous overprotectiveness was if Theo talked him out of it. After all, Theo was a master of words.

“If you want to risk it,” you finally said, meeting Theo’s gaze steadily, “I won’t stop you. But not now. Not at breakfast. I’m actually hungry and I want to enjoy it without you getting your head torn off.”

“Qualsiasi cosa per la mia principessa,” he said, smiling. (Anything for my princess)

Because it would look suspicious if Theo and you just so happened to arrive at the same time, you let him go first and waited for a few minutes before making your way to the Great Hall as well. It was relatively late when you arrived, many students were already on their way back up to their common room as it was a Saturday and they had no classes to attend.

When you walked into the hall, you spotted your friends as one of the last groups at the Slytherin table. Walking over to them, you were first spotted by Pansy, who lifted her head from Blaise’s shoulder to wave you over with an eager grin. Suspicion curled in your stomach when you saw the excitement in her expression, the eager smile could mean nothing good.

As you approached them, you avoided looking at Theo, who had perched himself on the bench in between Pansy and Draco. You went for the seat opposite him, Enzo and Mattheo making room for you in between them. Theo lounged far more casual than usual, smirking slightly as you sat down next to your brother, his eyes flickering over you shortly. “Took your time getting here, tesoro.”

Your eyes flickered over to Mattheo in alarm- in his presence, Theo usually made use of less romantic nicknames. But Mattheo didn’t seem to have picked up on it, seeing as he didn’t pause in his scribbling on a torn piece of parchment. Somewhat calmer, you picked a piece of toast from a plate, avoiding his piercing eyes to not give anything away. “Shut up, Theo. I need my rest,” you said as casually as possible. “Not all of us survive on caffeine, nicotine and no sleep at all.”

On the opposite side of the table, Theo rested his chin on his palm, propped up on the polished wood. His eyes were dark with amusement as he watched you spread butter on your toast. “Hm,” he made vaguely, voice dripping with insinuation, “Thought maybe you got held up.”

Stiffening mid marmalade application, you looked up from your toast to glared at him. But he had already averted his eyes, as if they had been resting on you by mere chance. Instead, you met Pansy’s gaze, who narrowed her eyes slightly, a suspicious look on her face. Pansy had known of your feelings for Theo for even longer as you yourself had, she had a certain instinct for romantic intricacies. One that now came to your inconvenience, as her attentive eyes, eager to pick up on any further signs, flickered between you and Theo. Then, she turned to you, a misleading smile spread across her features. “How was the party yesterday, darling?” she asked, wiggling her brows, “How was your date?”

Mattheo, who had barely been paying attention up until now, froze next to you, eyes snapping up from the parchment and to you with scrutinizing estimation. Trying your best to look indifferent at the memory of Campbell, one that you had already half suppressed, you shrugged, not meeting Theo’s eye. “It was pretty uneventful. He was a bit of a bore.”

Mattheo seemed agitated. He leaned back on the bench, fingers tapping on the wood restlessly, knee rocking under the table. “You missed the briefing,” he said to you, in a not so subtle attempt to change the topic of conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pansy’s face fall. No doubt would she have asked about the details of the evening, but you weren’t that good at lying- especially not to her.

“The what?” you asked, before she could bring Campbell up again, and raised your brows at your brother. Mattheo grinned at your scepticism and draped an arm over your backrest. Years and years living with him had taught you when his smiles could mean no good, and your brows drew together in a frown as he leaned towards you with a smirk.

“The party briefing. We’re throwing one tonight. No, you don’t get a say. Yes, you’re going. No, you’re not bringing some random guy.”

Deadpanning, you took a bite out of your toast. “Didn’t ask for your permission, actually,” you said sharply when you’d swallowed.

With a mock gasp, your brother clutched his hand over his chest. “You wound my pride as your older brother.” You sighed a long sigh. It was pointless reminding Mattheo that he wasn’t even the oldest and him acting like he was most likely stemmed from some deep-rooted control issues- he would never hear it. You exchanged a short look with Theo, who seemed amused at your frustration and quirked his lips at you. It was hard not to smile back.

“Do we really need another party?” asked Draco, frowning, as he cut his toast into neat pieces for consumption. “Didn’t we just have one?”

Pansy, leaning against Blaise, took her eyes off you to roll them at him. “You say that every time.”

“And you always show up,” Mattheo grinned triumphantly, seemingly very content with himself ever since you’d shown so little enthusiasm regarding your date of last night. If only he knew…

“You've got scratches on your neck, Nott,” Pansy said suddenly, making your meandering thoughts snap back to the present. A present in which Theo had frozen mid-stretch. His shirt seemed to have ridden up when he’d strained his arms over his head and indeed, with horror, you noticed the marks your nails must’ve left on him. You felt heat rush up into your cheeks at the memory, but Theo seemed completely unfazed and smirked at her. “Do I?”

Enzo chuckled into his tea next to you, turning a page in his newspaper and glancing up at Theo shortly, a knowing smile on his face. “Rough morning, mate?” A lazy, unbothered smile spread across his face, and you were momentarily awestruck by the glinting in his blue eyes as they reflected the morning sun, forgetting all about Pansy’s watchful gaze. Looking from you to Theo, she narrowed her eyes once more as Theo idly spun his spoon between his fingers.

“You’ve been in a suspiciously good mood all morning.” Blaise grinned at Theo, who didn’t seem unsettled by the attention at all- other than you. “Must’ve been a real good fuck,” Blaise laughed, making the corners of Theo’s lip twitch. Quickly, you looked away from him. If he looked at you with those damn eyes of his now, your reaction would for sure give you away.

But Theo merely raised an eyebrow at Blaise, readjusting his collar. “Why do you care so much about my sex life, Zabini? It’s disturbing.”

Even Draco now joined into the conversation, and you could only pray your silence would be interpreted as tiredness, rather than nerves and utter embarrassment. He leaned back and frowned slightly at Theo, who was pouring himself another cup of coffee. “It’s just weird when you smile, Nott.”

That seemed to finally take Mattheo’s mind off the party- though you’d rather have them all occupied with something else. He pointed his fork at Theo, suddenly interested. “Actually, yeah. What’s with you?”

Theo deadpanned, sipping his coffee and scanning them all over the rim. “Maybe I’m just happy.”

Next to you, Mattheo snorted disbelievingly. “You’re never happy.” The sarcastic look on Theo’s face made everyone, including you, laugh. Even Theo’s lips twitched humorously and once again, his eyes found yours for the split of a second, brow raising.

“Alright,” groaned Mattheo, matter of factly, once the laughter had subsided, and rose from his seat. “I have some orphans to cannibalize before noon.” his gaze landed on you, voice casual but suddenly firm. “No bullshit tonight, yeah? I don’t want to have to drag some idiot off of you.”

“How about you don’t do that?” you suggested dryly, knowing he would never even consider the possibility. He considered your business his business and justified it by spewing stuff about protecting you, shielding you from the world. But he had to know he would not be able to forever. And you, for your part, were perfectly content with pushing more boundaries, especially when it had felt so damn good yesterday.

As you had suspected, all you got from Mattheo was an unbothered grin. “Not up to you,” he said, simply.

Even Pansy rolled her eyes now. She had always been your advocate, the one who got you talking to boys at parties and smuggled you drinks, lended you her unholy book collection and gave you makeup tips. Now, she gave Mattheo a pointed glare. “You act like she’s a kid, but she’s an adult just like you, you big idiot,” she snapped.

Indignant, Mattheo crossed his arms over his chest. “No, I act like she has terrible taste in men.”

“He does have a point, darling,” Enzo chimed in from your other side, and you gave him a look, conveying just how unhelpful he was being.

“She’s going to end up with someone eventually,” Pansy pressed on, making Mattheo’s expression shift into one of irritation. “And you’ll have to face it.”

Mattheo scoffed, returning her glare. “Not if I have a say in it.”

“You don’t!” you reminded him, voice more heated than before. The stress of keeping a secret from him paired with the worry this conversation sparked off inside you.

The smile on Mattheo’s face was forced, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard and unyielding. “It’'ll be a cold day in hell before I let some idiot get near you." And unfortunately, you believed him.

The Slytherin common room was buzzing with restless, pent up energy of countless students of all houses. The air thick with cigarette smoke and the sickly-sweet smell of smuggled firewhiskey. The emerald glow of the fires cast wildly dancing shadows against the walls, where the portraits had left their frames to spent the night somewhere less in risk of being splashed with alcoholic substance. A large mass of people was swaying to the deafeningly loud music in the center of the room, and in the corners, intertwined bodies engaged in far riskier affairs.

Theo stood against the far wall, posture deceptively relaxed, grip tight round the bottle of some alcohol he was holding. When Blaise had pushed it into his hands an hour prior with a promising smirk, guaranteeing him it was “good stuff”, he had been too distracted to question it, but he didn’t recognize the taste. Normally, that would have been enough of a reason to discard the bottle- Slytherin parties were notorious for the impending risk of being poisoned- but tonight, he couldn’t bring himself to care, needed the deliciously burning trickle down his throat and distract him from this. From you.

His jaw clenched every time he caught sight of you- twirling absentmindedly to the music, smile shining beneath the lights as you let Pansy drag you all over the dance floor in search of Blaise. Unaware of the way his gaze followed you like a magnet, like a tether he couldn’t sever. Every now and again, his eyes flickered over to the opposite end of the room and he took another sip of the unknown drink. Your brother was as loud and reckless as ever, downing shots and laughing with Enzo about something while Draco stood stiffly beside him, eying the dancers critically.

He had been working them out all afternoon. The words, that now sat heavy on his tongue, burning hotter than the liquor. Theo exhaled slowly, set his bottle down with a muted clink, and pushed himself off the wall. The crowd of dancers shifted around him, bodies moving in a drunken haze, some girls clinging to him, but he barely registered it. He slipped through the chaos like a shadow until he came to a stop behind Mattheo and Enzo, still caught up in their conversation.

When they took notice of his presence, Mattheo turned to him with a crude grin. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Plenty,” said Theo dryly, hiding his twitching fingers in the pockets of his trousers. Mattheo seemed to take notice of his restlessness, an impressive feat, taking into account how many shots he’d already downed. His brows lifted in vague confusion. “Need something?” he asked, voice rough from smoke, head tilting as he noticed the tension in his best mate’s stance.

Theo swallowed, throat tight, pulse a heavy drum in his ears- or was it the music? “Yeah,” he finally said, voice low and steady, masking the way his heart rattled against his chest like it wanted to break from its cage. He tipped his chin toward the stairs, toward the shadows of the quieter corner. “Need a word.”

Though he looked surprised, Mattheo gave a small nod and placed his drink on a couch table. He followed his best mate along the cold stone walls that seemed to swallow the loud thumping of the music. When they reached the stairs and immersed themselves in the shadows, the music seemed to grow slightly fainter, though still a prominent beat mirroring the one of Theo’s pulse. “I’ve got to talk to you about something,” he said, seriously, leaning against the wall and scanning Mattheo, gauging his mood, how quick he would be to snap.

Mattheo had had a great evening so far. He’d dunked one guy's head in the punch bowl, made out with both of the Patil twins and the firewhiskey from their new supplier was way better than the one they usually got from the hogshead. He sniggered at Theo’s grave expression. “What are you so serious for, Nott?” he drawled easily, already tipsy from the few rounds of firewhiskey. “Could we have one night where you don’t look like your nonna was just run over?”

Theo made no effort to conceal his scoff. Usually, he had his fun at these parties. Even if he didn’t present the most cheerful face, his needs would remain somewhat satisfied by the end of the night. He highly doubted that tonight would be the same. “It’s about your sister,” he said steadily, watching Mattheo’s grin change into a frown.

“Ah,” he said, sounding somewhat sobered up. “Heard you sorted out Campbell pretty bad this morning. What did he do?”

Vivid images of your wide, teary eyes flashed in Theo’s eyes, of the way that tramp Campbell had grabbed you, how pathetic he had looked this morning as a bloody, crumpled mess at his feet, begging for mercy. “No matter,” he said, remembering his promise to you. “It’s something else.”

���Merlin, Nott, you ‘re acting like she caught a deadly disease,” groaned Mattheo in exasperation, but Theo could see how his vague wording unnerved him. If there was one person Mattheo would burn down the world for, it was his sister. Theo understood the sentiment, but he didn’t like his practices. “Spit it out,” growled Mattheo, pushing himself off the wall to come closer. “Can’t be too bad, can it?”

“It can,” Theo said with pursed lips, knowing that the news he was about to share would bother Mattheo more than a natural disaster could- after all, he was one himself. Mattheo's face fell with the words, and his frown only deepend. “Why do I feel like I’m about to hate whatever comes next?”

It was the way Theo stood so still that caught your attention- a statue carved from tension, jaw locked, shoulders taught beneath his shirt. You almost missed it, lost in the relentless pull of the music and Pansy's hand tugging yours as you spun, but something inside you twisted, as if instinct was dragging your gaze to the far side of the room. and there they were. Theo and Mattheo, cornered in the shadows, their heads inclined towards each other. It was hard to read their body language through the sea of dancing people and flashing light, but you could make out the way Theo’s lips moved, wrapped around words that seemed to struggle their way past his lips.

In reaction to them, Mattheo leaned in, gaze dark and sharp, while Theo's fingers curled into fists at his sides, the muscles in his forearm twitching like live wire. The room around you seemed to blur at the edges, the pulse of the music fading into a distant hum. You couldn’t hear the words exchanged, but you didn’t need to to know that something was very, very wrong.

With a tug at her arm, you caught Pansy’s attention and inclined your head toward their tense figures. Pansy, who had lived through her fair share of dragging Mattheo away from fights, like all of his close friends, frowned, nudging you away from the thick knot of bodies that was the center of the room. Suddenly, your eyes caught the way Theo said something to Mattheo that made his jaw fall slack. Dread pooled in your stomach, your legs uncoordinated with the conflicting wishes to run or to get in between them. You decided upon the latter, slowly walking towards their corner as Mattheo’s hands curled into fists at his sides.

Mattheo laughed in Theo’s face, but it was devoid of any humour, no more than the promise of something darker, of impending doom. “You're joking,” he said, almost commanded.

Theo’s voice was steady, his gaze unwavering. “I’m not.”

But Mattheo seemed unwilling to accept the truth of his words. Shaking his head with a wild smile, he paced around the very limited space, knuckles turning white around the bottle he was holding. “No, no, no. You’re not.” But the hard look on Theo’s face made his face fall. The color seemed to vanish from his cheeks. Without a warning, his hands reached out and suddenly got a hold of the taller boy’s collar, the bottle meeting the ground with a soft thud that was drowned out by the music. Theo looked unfalteringly into Mattheo’s eyes that flickered between, desperately in search of a lie, a bad joke. But it didn’t come, and his group tightened on Theo’s shirt.

“Tell me you’ll end it,” he said, voice low and furious. “Right now.”

Theo didn’t flinch, though his eyes flickered to the side, where some partygoers had taken notice of the unfolding scene. Somewhere in the crowd, he made out your face, eyes widened in worry, as you approached them. “I won’t,” he said harshly to the other.

Mattheo’s face twisted into something sinister, a storm of fury darkening his features, cackling tension ready to break and unleash its fury. His knuckles whitened around Theo’s collar as he dragged him down until their foreheads almost touched. The dancing light of the common room danced around the sharp, clenched line of his jaw, the cold fury brimming in his eyes, and something else- betrayal. “What did you just say?” he breathed, voice dripping with quiet, lethal rage.

But Theo didn’t flinch, his jaw set, eyes steady. “I won’t,” he repeated, voice like iron. Mattheo’s fingers flexed, and it was all it took for his restraint to snap.

The first punch landed like a gunshot. Theo’s head snapped to the side, a sharp crack echoing through the corner of the room as Mattheo’s fist connected with his cheekbone. The force of it staggered him, but he didn’t fall- just wiped the blood from his split lip and squared his shoulders like he’d been waiting for this. Mattheo lunged, grabbing him by the shirt again and shoving him into the storm wall with enough force to rattle the torches. “You absolute piece of shit!” he spat, words laced with venom. “You fucking knew she was off limits!” His voice had risen to a loud snarl, sharp enough to cut through the party noises.

Theo shoved back, and the people broke apart when Mattheo and he faced each other, panting. Slipping from their haze, many of the party-goers turned in search of the origin of the shouting, and a crowd formed around them. And still, Theo didn’t back down. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there, blood smeared across his jaw, staring back at Mattheo like he’d let him tear him apart before he even thought of walking away from you.

But before Mattheo could deliver another punch, a familiar voice made the both of them whip around. “Mattheo, stop!” you shouted, out of breath, and stumbled in between them, into the no man’s land between their heaving bodies. When you looked at Mattheo, you saw the betrayal deeply etched into his features. They were twisted with hate and anger, every nerve tense, like a predator ready to pounce. When you turned to Theo, his heart clenched with a sharp pain far surpassing the one pulsing in his busted lip. Your eyes were full of worry and fear, clinging to the smear of blood on his chin.

But you turned to Mattheo sharply, likely sensing that he was just about ready to do everything- anything. His dark eyes were locked on Theo, he barely acknowledged you, his voice laced with disgust. “You had every girl in the castle, and you chose her?”

“I didn't choose,” replied Theo, suppressing the urge to pull your shaky figure into him, wrap his arms around you. “It just happened.”

“Yeah?” asked Mattheo, chest heaving with barely contained fury. “Well, it’s about to un-happen.”

“This isn’t just some fling, Mattheo,” you tried, taking a hesitant step towards your brother. But not even your pleading eyes could calm the storm raging inside him.

A bitter laugh left his throat, mocking you. “Right. Because you’re so special, huh? Always desperate to be wanted by someone.”

You knew he didn't mean it. That fury and shock twisted his words into something ugly and hurtful, meant to attack your weak points, meant to hurt. To disarm. And it was disarming. His words were like poison, seeping into your flesh, curling up in your stomach and echoing in your mind. Defensively, you squared your shoulders, but tears stung in your eyes.

For a moment, Mattheo almost seemed to falter, until Theo brushed past you in one fluid motion, gripped the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked sharply, shaking him by his shirt. Instead of an answer, Mattheo shook him off and threw a punch that Theo dodged. The next, however, met him square across the face as Mattheo lunged at him, absolutely livid.

The crowd gasped and screamed as they fell to the ground in a huddle of arms and legs, spitting insults at each other. When Theo rolled him over and got the upper hand for a second, he brought his fist down upon mattheo’s face and the following crack resounded against the stone walls. Spitting out blood, Mattheo shoved him off and tackled him with new fury.

Suddenly, you felt a strong tug at your arm, and before you knew it, Pansy had pulled you a few feet distance from the fight.

Meanwhile, both Mattheo and Theo got onto their feet again and Mattheo, face and shirt bloody, stumbled back a step, steadying himself against the wall. Theo stood upright, but his lip was dripping with blood and his shirt was ripped slightly. Mattheo’s eyes wandered from you to Theo, still ablaze with rage. but instead of attacking him again, he spat at Theo’s feet, turned on his heel and approached the exit, the crowd bursting apart where he walked.

When the entrance sealed itself behind him, stunned silence filled the room, thick as the previous heavy beat of the music. But someone had stopped the record player. The room seemed weirdly small without the thundering bass. Still rooted to the spot, Theo ran a bloody hand over his busted lip. Then, he slowly turned. When you looked into his eyes, you released a shaky breath. Slowly putting the pieces together, a round of whispers overtook the bystanders. And in one singular motion, all heads turned to your heaving figure.

The sad remains of some of the stargazing instruments lay scattered across the floor, unfortunate witnesses to Mattheo's wrath. Ripped parchment fluttered like the wings of trapped birds in the wind and the black board exhibited a large gash where he’d punched it in a fit of overflowing rage. They all were signs of the destrcutive storm that had rushed through, left nothing untouched. Now, it leaned against the stone railing, the remains of several cigarettes at his feet. But no smoke curled in the air above. Mattheo had smoked his lungs out until the pack was empty, and now, his leg rocked unsteadily, his fingers twitched and he glowered into the dark of the night.

He didn’t bother looking up when he heard Theo’s footsteps scuff against the stone floor, the creak of the door. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon like the stars might calm the fury blistering under his skin. But as the other neared the railing with slow but sure steps, he tracked every movement: the stiff set of Theo’s shoulders, the way he flexed his fingers like he was still shaking off the urge to hit something. His jaw was tight, a faint bruise blooming along his cheekbone, but he stood tall, steady, like he wasn’t the least bit sorry for what he’d done. It pissed him off, almost as much as the fact that he was in the wrong.

His eyes wandered down to his best mates hands once more, gaze flickering over the knuckles Theo hadn’t bothered to heal. “You look like shit,” Mattheo muttered, voice low and sharp, though the words carried less venom than they should have.

Theo rested his forearms against the railing next to him, though keeping a certain distance. His hands wrung, more blood seeping from his bashed in knuckles. Then, with a long sigh, one of them disappeared into his pocket and he glanced over at Mattheo, sizing him up. “Smoke?”

Mattheo gritted his teeth in frustration, hands curling into fists as he stared onto the lake. “Fuck yeah. I’ve run out.”

A rustling of clothing, a crackle of carton and then, Theo handed Mattheo a cigarette. The latter took it without comment, lighting it with a flick of his fingers and taking a slow drag. Smoke billowed out of his mouth as Theo next to him balanced another smoke between his bleeding lips and clicked a lighter to ignite it. He, too, took a languid drag of it, watching the smoke curl up into curious shapes before dissipating into the cool night air. As the calming effect made him able to stop the bouncing of his leg, Mattheo let out a scoff and blew smoke from his nose. “You really are a fucking bastard.”

For a few seconds, only the faint whisper of the wind around the castle walls filled the air. Then- “I can only promise you that I’ll be whatever she needs me to be,” Theo replied, carefully choosing his words.

A disbelieving, ironic chuckle stumbled past Mattheo’s lip, hanging in the tense air between them like the puff of smoke that accompanied it. “Well, aren’t you all righteous all of the sudden?”

Theo didn’t answer, but the lack of a response sounded as loud as a yell could have. Agitated, Mattheo tightened his grip on the cigarette, making sparks of embers gush from it and shine brightly until they were swallowed up by the dark. A frustrated growl left his lips. “Why did you have to fuck this up for me?”

“Fuck what up?” asked Theo, a sudden and unmistakable sharpness in his voice that made Mattheo turn his head to him. His brow was raised as he breathed out a string of smoke and eyed the other critically. “Your carefully crafted plan to validate yourself by keeping her close? Whether she's protected or not doesn't change who you are. But I don't think you really care about protection, do you? You only want to be her highest priority, because you’re no one else’s.”

Theo’s voice had grown more heated and he had inched closer. With a frustrated frown, Mattheo averted his eyes from him, angrier than ever at the fact that he knew there was truth to his words. But theo didn’t let up as he leaned in, forced Mattheo to hear the words. “You cling to her like it's her job to soothe your self-loathing. But she's not your mother, she's not your therapist, she's not your tool. I know you love her, so do I, but that means separating your protectiveness from your self-protection.”

There was another short silence, a silence thick with tension, brimming with their heated tempers. Finally, Mattheo scowled frustratedly and took another, long drag of his cigarette. His leg had started bouncing again. “You really are an asshole, Nott.” He waited for an answer, but Theo seemed to have said all he intended.

Agitated, Mattheo ran a hand through his dark curls, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Fuck, maybe you’re right. You know… in my whole damn life, the only people who ever accepted me- ever really accepted me- were you and her. You two saw the whole, stinking pile of shit that I am and you chose to stay. And now, you’re going behind my back.” He refused to meet Theo’s measuring stare, knowing he was too disconcerted to put up any sort of facade- especially around him. He’d never really fooled Theo, and it showed when he raised his voice.

“You’re scared,” he said calmly, throwing him a firm look when he scoffed, “Don’t be stupid, you can’t deny it. Just listen to yourself, mate. But being with me doesn’t mean she’ll leave you.”

A frustrated groan left Mattheo’s throat, his eyes fixed to the glint of moonlight, reflected on the steady waves of the lake. They rippled softly with each breeze. “Feels like you’re both turning your backs on me, just like the whole fucking world did,” he said, voice raw, fingers tightening around the railing until his knuckles stood out white.

“They turned on her too,” Theo argued sensibly, voice calmer and somehow softer as the topic turned to you. Mattheo noticed it with great dissatisfaction. “You only see your pain, Mattheo, but you didn’t soothe hers when you made her unapproachable to everyone but us.” Everything inside Mattheo denied the truth his words carried. After all he’d sworn himself he’d do for you, it hit him like another punch. But he was forced to admit that there was some sense in his words.

He’d always thought he alone could protect you properly- and Merlin, it stung that he might be wrong. Who was he kidding, he was wrong. “Shut the fuck up,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

Theo simply stomped out his cigarette, tone turning matter-of-fact. “I have nothing more to say. And you don't, either.”

Mattheo released a frustrated breath of air, scowling at the smoldering cigarette between his fingers. “How did it happen anyway?” he finally asked.

Theo dragged a hand through his curls. He leaned against the cold stone railing, jaw tight, voice low but steady. “It only started last night. At Slughorn's stupid party,” he admitted, glancing at Mattheo through the haze of smoke.

“I thought she went with Campbell?” asked Mattheo, quickly, and Theo narrowed his eyes at him. “I was getting there.” Averting his eyes to his hands, his expression darkened at the memory of the night. “Campbell cornered her. He had his filthy hands on her, saying things I won’t repeat. I got there just in time.” His voice sharpened, every word laced with venom. “Ripped him off her. This morning I made sure he wouldn’t forget why he shouldn’t try again.” Theo rubbed his thumb over his knuckles that were becoming scabby against the cool air. “She was shaken, mate. And you weren’t there. But I was. And I couldn’t- couldn’t leave her after that.”

Mattheo didn’t speak. The only sound was the distant crackle of the dying embers in his cigarette, the quiet rustle of wind tugging at their robes. He stood rigid, fingers curled into fists at his sides, jaw clenched so tightly a muscle ticked beneath his skin. Theo stayed still, letting the weight of his words linger, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. He didn’t look away, didn’t flinch under Mattheo’s glare- just waited. And when Mattheo finally exhaled, the sound was sharp, almost guttural, like he was trying to breathe out the ache that had settled in his bones. “What did you do to Campbell?” he finally asked in a business-like manner, though his glare was withering.

“Broke his nose. His jaw. Split his brow. Might've kicked a couple ribs in,” Theo said, deadpanning.

Mattheo paused, nodding slowly. “Good.”

“I don’t just care about her,” Theo pressed, seizing the moment as Mattheo looked somewhat appeased. “I protect her. I have and I will.”

Mattheo scoffed, but when he glanced back at Theo, his glare had turned into a frown, fury replaced by irritation. “You broke my nose, by the way,” he said gruffly, pointing to his blood-smeared face.

“You split my lip first,” countered Theo with a smirk, rubbing over his knuckles.

The reply earned a dark chuckle from Mattheo. “Fair trade for wrecking Campbell’s face, I guess.” With a sigh, he turned to lean against the railing with his side, his front turned towards Theo. With a flick of his wrists, he flicked ash into the night and studied Theo’s expression. “I get it, you know. Why she… why you.”

Theo glanced over, catching Mattheo looking almost pained at the admission. “Do you?”

Another groan left Mattheo’s lips as he flicked the burnt-out smoke off into the dark grounds of the castle, following the glowing embers with his eyes until they had merged with the dark. “I hate it,” he said lowly, “But yeah. i get it.” His eyes seemed to darken. “If she’s gonna be with someone, I’d rather it be the guy who fought me for her without flinching.”

The agitation was visible with the way his knee bounced, his fingers twitched and he averted his face from Theo’s piercing gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Take care of her, man. Please.”

When Theo opened his mouth to speak and reassure him, however, he cut him off quickly, voice wavering slightly with the struggle to hide how affected he was. “You won’t have sex of course.” His face twisted with disgust at the idea. “Not until she’s at least twenty-five. Thirty. Never, actually,” he clarified, nodding to himself and giving Theo a very firm glare, pointing at him. “Don’t you lay hands on my little sister!”

“She’s not your little sister, mate,” said Theo, completely unfazed. “And it may already be too late for that.”

“You fucker!”

Theo descended the stone steps from the Owlery, hands stuffed into his pockets, the early morning chill clinging to his skin. A few students he passed nudged their friends and broke out into whispers, but he ignored them. It had only been a few hours, but the news of his and Mattheo’s showdown at the Slytherin party had already made its rounds. Not that he would have minded. The more people knew you were his, the better. It was as if his whole terrifying reputation had been crafted only to protect you now.

As Theo stepped into the nearly empty Great Hall, he spotted you sitting alone with Mattheo at the Slytherin table. The sight seemed to unravel something inside him. You were curled into the bench, hands wrapped around a mug, face lit with cautious disbelief. Mattheo sat back, arms slung over the back of the chair, looking exhausted but...relaxed. Like the weight of the world had shifted off his shoulders, even if he wasn’t quite sure where to put it yet.

Theo hesitated only for a second, then he walked over, passing all other house tables and walking up the Slytherin one. When you noticed him, your eyes widened, your lips parting as if you couldn’t quite believe he was still breathing, still standing. “So Mattheo wasn’t lying,” you said, breathlessly, looking up at him. “You actually survived.”

Theo’s lips twitched into a crooked grin as he dropped onto the bench beside you, thigh brushing against yours like it belonged there. "Told you I could be convincing," he muttered, voice low enough that Mattheo rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

Glancing shortly at Mattheo, you leaned over to place a quick peck on his lips- unaware how hungry it made him for more. With a sheepish smile, you parted from him, and he had to seriously restrain himself in order to not grab your face and clash his lips onto yours, making your breath hitch so deliciously in your throat.

Mattheo tossed a piece of toast onto his plate glaring at Theo like he still might throttle him for sport, but his voice lacked venom. “I told her if you break her heart, I'll break your legs,” he said, like he was commenting on the weather.

Theo just smirked, stretching his arm across the back of the bench, fingers ghosting over your shoulder. “Fair trade,” he murmured, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “Guess you’re stuck with me now, huh?”

And the way you smiled back- hesitant, relieved, a little in awe- made every bruise worth it.

a/n: the writing process of this was kind of cursed (deleted documents, unsaved changes etc) so I'm just so glad I managed to get it out. I hope you like it!

taglist: @lady-peiskos @hazeldunst @juliet-017 @furioussharkcat @onlytenkos @jannie-belaerys @blueflowerpots @whosyourgnomie @revesephemeres @longpondlibrary @aespaslut @hopeless--romamtic @s00ty-feet @iamheretoread1234 @devilsadvcte @jolly4holly

[takol0ve]

Saw some more Lily Orchard takes, one of which is about Dungeon Meshi. [spoilers.]

So I’m gonna go through these points. Specifically the negatives because idgaf about the three above it.

“The main setup is weirdly grim for such a silly show.”

DM is built on Seinen. A genre of media thats directed to an older demographic than the purposed shonen demographic. It’s not weirdly grim for the series if the plot is based around an underground city that was discovered recently by the surface. It shouldn’t be too grim if the story was also revolved around saving Laios’ sister by bringing her back to life. I feel like a series like this also should be silly when it has DND elements in it, a game where you could possibly do anything you want and get away with it for fun. DM is also relatively cozy when it wants to be, and thats why Laios is so important, his open mindedness keeps his group together despite being a dense goofball. He’s Luffy coded really, he’s a little dumb but he’s intelligent emotionally in his own way.

“Poor comedy”

Lily’s form of comedy is sausage party considering her review of Hazbin Hotel I guess.

“The entire series is premised on the joke of anime drawing good food.”

Lily discovers Sakuga, congrats. But yes, the series is based on the notion of cooking and the importance of hunger and food that also correlates to desire and fear, found family and open mindedness. Marcille CRAVES an equal life between all races because she FEARS that her loved ones will die before her for example. Laios’ open mindedness doesn’t stop him from seeing other races, including monsters being the same as him, because he understands that humans themselves are selfish and are used as a food source by monsters inside the dungeon. Found family revolves around Chilchuk because he’s relatively reclusive about himself and opens up more around the group, he discovers family, thats his development.

“Every character that isn’t Marcille is a stock archetype”

I don’t really understand this, is she saying everyone else is just the same? Marcille is not a perfect character, she has her flaws. Even if her desire to make all races equal by age, just because it can be passed as empathy doesn’t mean that her desire can’t also be perceived as pity because other races tend to dislike the elves, so it’s understandable why some other characters wouldn’t like her. It’s a racial bias based on age. Did we learn nothing from Zootopia? 😭

“Fan service bath scene”

A sauna and a bath scene are two different things btw. The only similar thing there was a sponge bath and even then it wasn’t fan service, LOOK AT HOW MUCH SENSHI GOOCH THERE IS COMPARED TO A SINGLE SAUNA SCENE. (MY GLORIOUS KING.)

“Severe tonal issues”

Idk the music is fine, lmao. Just use tone, I was really confused when she used tonal because it’s regularly used in music. Even then the tones of DM are relatively good, colors are vibrant, everything is easily recognizable, the world around them is surprisingly vast for how short the story is.

“Anime being weird about female characters again”

…what. Lmao. Like I don’t know how to respond to this because Lily is actually tone deaf about other women. Like DM was written by a woman, idk why she would double down on fetishizing women in her own story? There is a lot of capable women in DM, Marcille and Falin being a couple, there being the canaries and a good portion of Shuros group, including izutsumi.

“Laios”

Lily probably didn’t finish or watch dungeon meshi at all. Even if she did, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was misandrist towards Laios. I shouldn’t explain why Laios is a good character and I won’t. Cuz I wanna go draw. 😀

[queenofzan]

So I'm watching a VOD of frapollo94 playing through Fear and Hunger: Termina and getting ending C, and he and his chat are theorizing at the end of the run, and...driving me fucking crazy. But this video is like a year old at this point so commenting feels a little silly.

First: becoming a New God /= ascension. I thought this was spelling out pretty clearly in Funger 1 tbh; New Godhood is a trap. I thought it was a trap laid out by the Old Gods, but certainly in Termina that doesn't seem to be the case. Honestly with how the Traces are in the dungeon, it seems unlikely; they don't give that much of a shit about humans. It would be like caring about the possibility of ants taking human form to participate in society. Like...what the fuck? That's just obviously not going to happen, why would I even think about that.

Ascension is something Alll-mer did, and we know even in Funger 1 that he is more on par with the Old Gods. Alll-mer is more powerful than the New Gods, objectively, and has been relevant and in power continuously for like 1500 years, which seems to be a great deal longer than New Gods manage.

The Girl, who becomes the God of Fear and Hunger, also ascends. This is implied to be possible because of a few things, although now at least one of them has been thrown into doubt by lore in Termina. A: her experiences have been as pure as any mortal's experiences could be, as she has only known always fear and hunger, trapped in the dungeons and caged like an animal. She seems able to understand language, but reluctant to speak. She does not have a name, or else does not share it. She is visibly touched by gestures as small as giving her (back?) a creepy doll, or letting her have a dagger. She is not living a typical childhood, even by the standards of the Fear and Hunger world; her life is hell and even the bright spots in it are some of the worst days of the other party members' lives.

B: she is born of a New God and a human. This demi-god status allows her the possibility of ascension through...fate? Having higher stats than a normal human child? Unclear. Made less clear in Termina by the conflicting lore we are introduced to about Alll-mer.

In Fear and Hunger 1, Alll-mer is said to be the child of a false god and a virgin mother. Being deep in the dungeons of fear and hunger in the "New Gods are a lie" gameplay loop, this is easily interpreted as him being the child of a New God and a human.

In Fear and Hunger: Termina, the skin bible of Alll-mer suggests an alternate origin story, where Alll-mer was created as some sort of ubermensch divine science experiment by Vitruvia, or possibly as the offspring of Sylvian and a prototype human. Which would make Alll-mer an even more traditional kind of demi-god...and also less human.

Someone in frapollo's chat suggested this was to poke fun at Christianity and the idea of Jesus being just some guy, which, I guess in a Doylist sense, that makes sense. But with the entire theme of Fear and Hunger 1 being "mortals cannot become gods outside of really super specific circumstances and that's just a trap for ambitious humans to fall into" I uhhhh think there may be more to it than that.

Whoever it is that has a vested interest in humans thinking they can become gods, but actually falling into the New God trap, would also have a vested interest in supporting the origin story of Alll-mer where he is "just" a human, but managed to ascend to greater power and intense relevance. I don't think this is the Old Gods, because again why would they give a shit, but I don't know how much evidence there is in-game to really support a good hypothesis. I will say, we see the Church is not above doing some freaky shit, committing heresies, and keeping secrets from the majority of people, in both games.

The Church in Fear and Hunger has dark priests, who specifically do also study/worship the Old Gods, as well as a history of literal human and blood sacrifice. By Termina, that has supposedly ceased, but we also see the Prehevil Church doing some hinky shit, including human and blood sacrifice that is supposedly out-dated, and potentially collaborating with Sulphur cultists or even outright subverting their own outwardly Alll-merian worship.

We also know from both games that there are sects or groups that disagree with Church doctrine, at least in details, and may openly or secretly subvert their control, such as the Yellow Mages following/worshipping Nas'hrah, and Father Domek keeping Marina's secret from his superiors.

I know, queer pagan saying "ooh, the fantasy church is bad!" but like. It is. We see that they practice hypocrisy, censorship, weird bloodline requirements, and potentially worship of the Anti-Christ. I don't know if it's that much of a stretch to blame them for, if not initiating, then certainly perpetuating the cycle of the New Gods trap, and reinforcing it with a story of Alll-mer's origins that, being 1500-1940 years in the past, is hard to definitively prove or disprove, but just so happens to align with keeping the false hope of New Godhood alive.

(This is complicated by the fact that by 1942 most people seem to not believe in or remember the New Gods very well; although we see New Gods in Termina, they are in specific ritual circles and effectively summoned with offerings, including Chambara, who we know likely had to be defeated in order for the worldstate to be what it is. Idk man, it doesn't seem that much of a stretch for the Church to keep working towards an outdated goal, but that isn't satisfying.)

I don't have a conclusion here, I'm just frustrated lmao

[nerogurl]

Hello! I have never done these match up requests but it seemed fun and your writing is really entertaining. Plus, I'm super curious about this type of fan fiction. It looks really fun! A big reason why I started Fear and Hunger is because someone online described it as being " the main character in the final act of a Lovecraft novel". I find eldritch horror so creative and intriguing to I dived on in.

APPEARANCE - I am 5'3, black/brown long wavyish hair, "top heavy", brown eyes, Mexican, kinda chubby.

Personality - I believe actions speak louder than words. Some people have described me as a social butterfly, but in reality I am hella antisocial and I just socialize so I can just get it over with and be in my own little corner. I really just enjoy being on my own since I don't have to worry about being a people pleaser or anything like that. I just feel more free on my own. That doesn't mean I hate being around people though. I love being around my family and friends. My social battery just runs very low and it takes a while to recharge. My friend had also once described me as having a forest gnome vibe. I do love being out in nature so it's pretty valid. I just feel very excited to be out in the mountains or forest. It makes me feel like an adventure is just around the corner. But I can also be pretty lazy. I love getting cozy and get into reading a book, play a video game, or watching a cartoon/movie. In the future I want to go into archaeology because I'm just fascinated by ancient civilizations and early humanity. I lean more towards absurdist philosophy with a bit of hedonism thrown in there. I just want someone to match my freak lol. No but seriously, I don't care about what other people do so long as no one gets hurt. I tend to like taking in little lost animals. like of course, wet cats. The cat distribution system loves me and I love it. In any kind of relationship I like to have a bit of teasing or light bullying. TO me it's a sign that we're comfortable enough with each other that neither of us will get hurt. And trust that neither of us will go too far. My love language is acts of service, words of affirmation and quality time.

LIKES - Campy/older horror movies. Especially if the effects are practical like in "The Fly", "The Thing", or "Pizza, Party, Panic". I appreciate the talent and creativity that goes into that specific type of gore or body horror. Even though it does make me queasy I just end up admiring the effects. I am big on cryptids and the occult, I just find all of that really cool. I love doing art in any and all forms. Especially trippy art! I usually use acrylics. I like really dumb silly stuff in general. That leads into not taking myself too seriously, I like to have fun! Y2k clothing styles are my jam, I always try to add at least a little something to my wardrobe

DISLIKES - People to are boring and aren't willing to have a little bit of fun. People questioning me and my business. I'm a pretty private person, so people prying make me suspicious. When horror movies use cheap scares, horror, or gore just to get a quick reaction. Traveling to places. I like being in places but not so much the journey. I'm more of a passenger princess anyway. Heights make me Shakey and light headed. Spiders.

(EDIT; thank you for clarifying anon! Here's the post.)

Aw, thank you Anon! I'm glad people enjoy my writing. It's nice to know I can make someones day. As for matches, I'm happy to inform you going over your description that I get the opportunity to match you with my favourite character, Nosramus!

Since Nosramus's gender is left intentionally innocuous, I will be using they/them pronouns.

A whimsical alchemist living in the cave system of the dungeons of Fear & Hunger, is a main character in Enki's S ending. They were originally part of the fellowship that would travel to Ma'habre to ascend to New Gods. Realising that ascension was a lie, keeping one's potential stagnant, they would refuse to join them and instead pursue true enlightenment through the constant pursuit of new knowledge. 

Having spent centuries isolated from society, they suffer from an acute loneliness. While they thrive to learn and adapt, as is their own discovered ultimate pursuit of enlightenment, there is a natural cultural disconnect with the passage of time; interacting with the world like a tourist. You might think that Nosramus has generous company drawn to them due to their ethereal appearance and otherworldly demeanour, but rather this actually makes them come across as intimidating. Sure, scholars or rabbit-masked lovers passing through, but interpersonal relationships? A light just too close to the sun or a stepping stone for other people's god-centred agendas, they would appreciate taking a turn of being the focus of fascination:

Trading their knowledge of ancient rites in exchange for learning more about modern society. Your art style and fashion sense are like candy for a alchemist with a glutton for knowledge. Studying the heartbeat of the earth, they love to observe nature in all its forms, they would like to observe you. What's the process behind your creations? The thought, behaviour, body language that goes into the choices involved with the unfamiliar art and fashion? As Nosramus's prior studies show that they had tried to recreate life, they love to watch the life you weave into your creations. 

Originally open to parenthood, I imagine them doting on their partner, similar to a caretaker. They can be seen silently observing your work fondly, taking note of any projects that have piqued their curiosity. They'd help by restocking your art supplies as a gift or offer to provide experiences that adventure into the surrealism that inspires psychedelic art, such as magic or the opium used to alleviate the loss of sanity. Intersecting with Nosramus's experiences, connecting their world to yours through a relatable medium, you could draw for them as a gift. Framing your art on the wall, like how a proud mother hangs their child's pieces on the refrigerator. You might find thrown out pieces sharing a spot among your gifts.

They are a bit of a cheeky flirt, all fun banter and playful, fully prepared that you're just passing through. They would suggest the idea of you staying in a teasing manner, of course if you don't mind bunking with an old windbag, 'hohohoho!'  Once you start to reciprocate, they'd slowly let you closer into their life enough that overtime you might be able to share it. 

Having lived in the Dungeons for most of their life, just like how the game recommends avoiding as many fights as possible, Nosramus relies on a similar strategy to social etiquette as you do, cautious and withdrawn but sociable. A slow-burn relationship, the quality time is what helps kinder the flames before taking things too seriously. A domestic lifestyle fit for an old married couple, sharing the same medial tasks to get through the day. 

Utilising an affinity with Vinushka the both of you share, allows long stretches of time to be spent reading in the sun by hidden grooves and forestry. Nosramus is not unfamiliar with days lazing about, some of which spent in the Sylvain meadows. Open minded to being freaky, they are versatile in all fields when it comes to learning new things.

Foraging in the caves for mushrooms, trading with the lizard-man civilisation for meat, scouring for whatever natural resources can be harvested for alchemy. Nosramus's sensibilities may have been warped having spent so long integrating with other species, their humour and understanding of social norms are probably a bit twisted, they would appreciate someone that wouldn't mind the peculiarity of their ideas.

The transition to a relationship is a delicate process of trust between two parties, but sharing the same approach and attitudes, it feels so seamless that looking back you can't pinpoint where it even began. 

Your next match is Samarie! Reading your mind she could find your headspace relatable. She can get extremely skittish when people get friendly, with her experience as a radiating soul drawing mostly negative attention. Struggling with socialising but wanting to be adored, contrasted with someone that struggles with too much attention being overwhelming: When reading your mind, she projects her insecurities as something you need protecting from. Trying her best to take some of the load off to help prevent you from getting overwhelmed by carrying conversation with the extra boost of confidence you give her. 

Samarie much the same admires Marina, who is so easily fits in the IN crowd. She wants to be someone you can look up to, she would be quite eager to teach you occult magic and offer whatever lore to add to your fascination of cryptids. With her life in the Vatican, she's had too much experience having grave importance staked on her life as a living sacrifice for the older gods. She'd prefer to live a carefree life of fun. Not thinking of the grand scheme of things and just trying to make as many happy moments as possible. Whether that's going out or staying in, positive affirmation from someone she cares about gives her more confidence to figure out what happiness is for her. 

Due to her upbringing, she would almost immediately be drawn to horror. A way to confront traumas in a safe controlled environment. The only apprehension she'd get is the same with you; cheap jump-scares are bad for her frail body. Introducing her to your favourites you could give her warnings by squeezing her hand. Although she can sense through your thoughts, going out of your way to let her know would be reassuring in that she can trust you. She'd be able to control her nerves enough to enjoy herself, albeit with a lot of coaxing.

The cat distribution system loves her too, she just doesn't know it yet. Being codependent on reading people's thoughts to navigate social interaction, I'm assuming that animals don't have the same crux as humans. Cats would be good for her mental health because it forces a situation where she has to take initiative outside of her unhealthy coping mechanisms. She would have a lot in common with cats, which parallels the parasocial relationship that she's able to establish with Marina from their common interests. However, the only acknowledgement she'll get from a cat is if she establishes an actual relationship first. 

A cat is sitting on her lap and she cannot physically bring herself to move. You'll just walk in on her splayed in awkward positions, trying not to move as to rouse any from their resting place. Looking at you with a silent pleading expression to help free her from her indentured role as a human mattress.

Although, physically weak, she could appreciate the outdoors in an unconventional way. She can relate to the disposition of bugs. Like how Enki intuitively learns how to communicate with bugs when thrown inside the well, I imagine Samarie would adapt very much the same. Using her ability to talk to bugs as a safety mechanism much in the same way as her mind reading. Going out for nature hikes is out of the question due to the extraneous physical activity. However, I could see her enjoy urban exploring. The intel from insects enables her to navigate the mysterious labyrinths with ease. Much like how you meet Samarie in a alternate reality on Day 2, after stepping on the Rher's ritual circle; a world just for the two of you.

Tldr; Nosramus & Samarie, but overall Nosramus is your best match.

[absentmoon]

enki enjoyers are the strongest people on earth huh? :3 (< enki enjoyer (not ironic)) (anyway genuinely love seeing the fear and hunger posting tho 👍 love sillifying the dark priest hes literally so funny to me in every context. there is something wrong with that guy (affectionate) <3)

LITERALLY THEY ARE hes ummmm my fave fah1 character =^_^= im trying not to crazy spoil myself on fah2 since i've decided to get the games soon-ish but its SO HARD. to resist. but enkis still my fave rn!!!! hes so silly Guy who goes in that dungeon and reads books and gets married

[venus-is-in-bloom]

i talked about this before in that silly essay and i'm sure everyone's on some level aware of it... but it really does feel like there's a kind of "positive censorship" that governs the media culture around here. like i've had some great finds recently: movies that talk about the trauma of racism (however obliquely), anti-imperialist novels that find publication, essays and papers that, if not perfect, at least are bigoted in unusual and interesting ways. but all of that is through friends and specific social circles. these interesting works, which made it through the difficult processes of production or publication, which were not stopped by the barriers of institutional racism from emerging into the public eye, nevertheless receive zero cultural attention. they are not talked about, are not fondly remembered, do not become classics and do not garner millions of fans who gush over their messages and praise their storytelling and artistic merit. and by contrast, the works that do... well.

whether it's video games, films, books, or any other media, the stuff that you always see get popular is always full of the most boringly backwards racism, misogyny, and imperialist apologia. in every subject that these works touch upon they toe a party line that is far more backwards, far more gracelessly and hideously bigoted, than its consumer base at large seems willing to admit. stuff like the locked tomb series, twilight, the hunger games, star wars, icarly, bbc sherlock, ace attorney, final fantasy fourteen, dungeons and dragons—all wow you with the horrifying blatantness of their adherence to ideas that we have been assured again and again are supposed to be long gone. more remarkable still, very few of these works really disagree in how they present these ideas. taken together, the constellation of the mainstream (and the fandom mainstream) paints a fairly coherent, well-connected picture of what is right or true, and just as importantly, it also produces the baseline of what is normal and unobjectionable to say or depict. it begins to feel silly to object to certain modes of bigotry, of racist caricature, of misogynistic stereotypes, of positive presumptions about capitalism and imperialism, when they are, and continue, to be universal—when it's rare to see anything else.

if the much-feared "negative censorship" is considered contrary to free speech because it silences voices that perhaps should be heard, then likewise does this positive censorship drown those voices out with the deluge of advertisement and consumerism, painting a dangerously narrow picture of the world that acclimates people to accept certain hateful ideas as reasonable and certain monstrous discussions as fair, even if we technically disagree with them.

[valdemart]

The Hunger (ValdemarxCannibal! Apprentice)

Asra brought you back, but half his heart wasn’t the only condition. 

TW Cannibalism, blood, Valdemar being a sexy creep

It came on as it always did, suddenly and without warning. But you knew, once it was there, it wouldn’t go away until you dealt with it. The celebratory dinner in Nadia’s private dining room, which had been so wonderful and well earned, suddenly felt like Hell on earth. You needed to get away as far away from here as possible. Now.

“My dear, are you feeling alright?”

You couldn’t meet Nadia’s eyes. Currently, you were genuinely scared that doing so would make you cry or laugh or scream.

No! I’m not feeling alright! How kind of you to notice!

“I’m a bit nauseous.”

Even without looking at her, you knew Nadia was frowning.

“You did have a very stressful day. What with the trial and all…”

“Thanks for that, again!” Julian chimed in, completely unable to read the room. Portia elbowed him to shut him up and you tipped back the rest of your Golden Goose. You knew from experience that alcohol wouldn’t help, but you were desperate for even the slightest bit or relief.

Just until I can take care of this.

“I think…I need to go lie down, Countess, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course, but please, ‘Nadia’ is fine.”

You were already leaving the room before she was finished speaking. Julian started to call after you, offering you some bloodletting, but his voice was silenced once the door closed behind you.

Damn Asra for leaving you alone! He knew! He knew this could happen! There was usually more time in between, but it never followed a pattern. It had nothing to do with the cycles of the moon or the weather or any other antecedent you could figure out.  

Still, being away from everyone, being in a cool, silent hallway helped ground you enough to think logically for a minute. You wouldn’t be able to walk back to the shop in your condition, and asking for a ride would only bring suspicion, so where else could you get what you needed?

The dungeon.

The answer rang as clear as a bell, but unlike before, the thought of going down there didn’t fill you with dread. The dungeon held your salvation.

The key was keeping it all together until you got there.

The servants didn’t pay you any mind as you entered the library; you had been in there several times since you had come to the castle and they were under orders from Nadia not to interfere with your investigation. Sure, Julian had already been hanged, but that didn’t mean your work was over. They didn’t know what you were up to anymore than they knew that Julian was alive and well. Now, alone in the locked library, nothing could stop you. You were three little books and a lift ride away from salvation.

Red

Leather

Black with gold

The bookcase slid open and you stepped inside.

Bloody hands may turn the key. Know the weight of your sins, and enter.

Even if the plaque was supposedly fake, you felt mocked as you turned the key. Your hands were bloody alright, as were your lips and stomach. The ride down was tortuously slow.

You had no fear being alone in the dungeon, too filled with desperate hunger to think about anything else. You weren’t sure why there were still jars of preserved organs sitting around a room that was no longer being used, but they would suit your need.

As you started for the jar of non-plague-ridden eyeballs you had spotted during your earlier tour, you froze in front of the raised operating stage in the middle of the room. There was something on the metal tabled.

It was a corpse.

You approached cautiously. This wasn’t here just yesterday. Weren’t the dungeons abandoned after the plague? How did it get here?

As you approached, you heard a faint dribbling noise, like a small brook running through the room. Once you were standing on the stage, looking down at the body, you realized it wasn’t water dripping, but blood. Blood was leaking out of the body and flowing down to the hole at the bottom of the table and dripping into a bucket.

You should have been scared. You should have been terrified that someone was draining the blood out of a very freshly dead human body in what should have been an abandoned dungeon.

Should

But you weren’t. Nice, fresh meat was so much more appealing that body parts filled with preserving chemicals. You leaned down, wrapped your mouth around the soft, cool skin on the chest of the deceased, and bit down.

“My, My, My…”

You knew that voice well now and you weren’t the least surprised to hear it. You stood and turned to look at the Quaestor, not bothering to pause your chewing. You still felt no fear. You were going to eat your fill. If Valdemar wanted you dead, there wasn’t really anything you could do about it now.

“Have you been here this whole time?”

“I was standing right here when you entered. Silly Little Magician was so hungry they didn’t even see me.”

“I thought you said you didn’t work down here anymore.”

“I usually don’t; my estate facilities are so much nicer. However, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to observe such a fascinating display. I do hope it is to your liking.”

They knew? Somehow, you weren’t surprised. You were even less surprised that they had set this whole thing up.

“How did you know?”

They grinned widely, showing off those predator teeth.

“You have your secrets, and I have my own. I’ve no doubt you’ll figure it out in time, Little Piranha.”

Your stomach lurked and you had to take another bite. There was still blood and it flooded your mouth and it satisfied you so, so much. You watched Valdemar the whole time, but they didn’t move. Maybe they weren’t trying to trap you. Maybe they really did just want to watch. It was bizarre, but not anymore bizarre than the whole ‘needing to eat human flesh’ thing.

“I take it this started after your master brought you back?”

What did it matter if you told them the truth or not? They already caught you red handed.

“Not right away. I was fine at first. I just ate normal food. Then Asra cut himself on an athame. I started to clean up the blood while he was healing himself and…the blood just…called to me.”

You didn’t go into detail on how you had lowered your head to the table and had licked the blood clean. You didn’t mention the look of horrified acceptance on Asra’s face as he watched you silently.

“Ever since then, sometimes this hunger just takes over. I can’t think about anything else until I eat. It’s disgusting, but I’ve never killed anyone for it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

You weren’t sure where Asra got the human flesh he fed you, but he never explained and you never asked. He acted like this was something he had always done for you, that you had always had this little problem and that it had always been easy for him to handle. He only said that it was a ‘medical condition’ you had and not to ever speak of it to anyone else. It wasn’t until you learned you had died and he had brought you back that you had put two and two together.

You had thought of ending it all, ending this cursed new life of yours, but after all Asra had gone through to bring you back you couldn’t. Besides, what would stop him from bringing you back again, more deformed and monstrous than before? What if you came back needing to feed every day?

“How very interesting, Little Magician.”

You already know the answer, but you feel you have to ask.

“Are you going to tell?”

“Tell who? The Countess? Doctor 069? I wouldn’t gain anything from it and it’s doubtful that they would want to believe me.”

“So why help me?”

Valdemar cocked their head to the side.

“So many questions. So unsure. Why not just eat?”

You took another bite, letting the cooling blood dribble down your chin, but you maintained eye contact. You needed to know what you were possibly going to have to pay back. Valdemar relented with a smile.

“So distrusting. Does it not make sense that I would want to keep such a fascinating specimen alive? I would lose so much science if you starved.”

Valdemar approached quickly and silently, grabbing your jaw firmly with their cold hand. You flinched. With your hunger fading, you were starting to come back to your senses, and that meant fear.

“In all my millennia of existence, I have never had a subject quite like you.”

You started to protest, to say that you were not their subject, but then they leaned forward and licked away the dribble of blood from your chin to the corner of your mouth with the tip of their tongue.

“Think of all the science we could do together.”

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 18 - Readjustments

Hiro flopped face first upon his bed with a groan. His stomach was rolling.

Aunt Cass had decided, as a means of making Varian feel more at home, to fix traditional meals from Corona. Turns out Varian loved to cook and he had helped prepare dinner every night for the past week. 

It started out simple enough, pork dumplings, baked apples, buttered shrimp, ham sandwiches with pickles, but then things started to get weird. While using pumpernickel for the ham sandwich had been different it was still manageable, but what came next was inexplicable; meatballs covered in anchovy sauce, cookies that tasted like black licorice, boiled eel, and today had been the worst of all, fish pie. 

It wasn't even like a real pie, it was just a whole fish, head, fins, and all, covered in a type of thick crust and baked. You had to pick through the crust and the skin to actually get to the fish and then you had to pull it off the bone and hope you didn't get one of the sharp tiny blades stuck in your throat or teeth. 

It had been all Hiro could do to sit through these dinners with a polite smile plastered on his face as he forced himself to eat. Today he had feigned an excuse about homework in order to get away as soon as possible. Though it looked like there was no end in sight. Varian already mentioned making some sort of stew tomorrow. Hiro forgot if it was going to be beef or vegetable but either way he didn't trust it. 

Hiro hoisted himself up and rolled on his back with a heavy sigh. 

Of course it wasn't really the food that was bothering him. He looked over to the other side of the room where Tadashi's things still lay untouched since his death. He didn't tell Aunt Cass this, but when it was first announced that Varian would be moving in with them Hiro had feared that Varian would share his room. That they would have to move all of Tadashi's things out and he was afraid he couldn't handle it.

Fortunately, it didn't come to that. Varian had taken over the guest bedroom downstairs instead. As Aunt Cass had put it, Varian was their guest and it wasn't like they used that room for much of anything else. Though Hiro suspected that Aunt Cass was just as unwilling to go through Tadashi's things as he was. They would have to do so someday though and Varian had just been a painful reminder of that. 

There were also other ways in which the time-displaced teen unintentionally encroached upon Tadashi's memory. Seemingly simple things, like when joining in on movie night Varian had picked out Frankenstein. That had been Tadashi's favorite film. Or yesterday, when Aunt Cass had taught Varian to play Gomoku. A family staple, the board game once belonged to their father and Tashdai had loved to play it on rainy days. 

Varian was a far different person than his brother and of course it wasn't as if he was trying to replace Tadashi or anything, but still simply having the boy around and integrating into their family naturally brought these situations up. It felt, well, off putting. 

If Aunt Cass felt the same or noticed she made no mention of it and for the most part Varian was oblivious. So Hiro was trapped with his own discomfort, unable to share his feelings without upsetting someone. 

He blinked back tears. The world was moving on without Tadashi and Hiro wasn't ready yet to accept that.

                                                   ----------------------

Varian made his way back to his new room, annoyed that Hiro had managed to avoid cleaning up after dinner, again. Varian knew the other boy had a lot on his plate; school, his internship, and superheroing, but would it kill Hiro to wash a dish now and then? Varian was also juggling school work and a new part time job, and he had not only cleaned up but also cooked the meal in the first place. But it's not like Varian could really say anything about it. He was still new here, and despite Aunt Cass's best efforts, he felt like an intruder.

People had always talked about ghosts in his world. He had never believed in them. His own castle was reportedly supposed to be full of phantoms but despite searching for years he'd never come upon any such spectral, until now. 

The Hamada home was haunted by the presence of Tadashi. The teen's pictures framed the walls, his things laid about the house untouched in months, and everything Varian said or did seemed to stir his memory in the minds of the family who still lived there. 

Varian understood, they were still grieving and he couldn't blame them for it. Yet, that didn't stop the ghost of Tadashi hovering in the back of everyone's mind and making even the air feel repressive. Varian gave an uneasy sidelong glance at one of the fading pictures on the wall, this one of Tadashi and his also deceased parents, before opening the door to the guest bedroom. 

The room was a small office space at the end of the hall on the second floor of the house. In fact it was the smallest room in the building save for the bathrooms. 

There was a single window on one end overlooking the alley and fire escape. Not the most resplendent of views perhaps, but better than having no fresh air or light at all. A living condition Varian knew all too well from his time in the dungeon. 

There was also a small metal bed with a thin spring mattress, made to fold up and roll out of the way if need be. Aunt Cass had said it was only temporary and offered to buy him a new bed later, but Varian had told her not to worry about it. It wasn't quite as comfortable as Wasabi's couch had been but it was still serviceable and he didn't want the woman to go out of her way any more than she already had. 

There was no closet but a tall chest of drawers on the far end and a small wooden desk next to the bed. Above the desk was a single shelf. Aunt Cass had originally stored decorative knick-knacks on it, but Varian had replaced those with what few books he owned instead. 

Aunt Cass had said that Varian was free to redecorate the room however he wanted as he'd be living there indefinitely. Varian wasn't sure what he might do as he didn't have any real preferences, though he might somehow cover the flowery wallpaper as it was starting to fade and peel. Hiro had posters up in his room, Varian might put some up as well, but of what he hadn't decided yet. 

For now though Varian simply reclined upon the bed, hands behind his head as he leaned against the wall, one foot dangling off the side, as he just wanted to relax. Soon the family cat, Mochi, wandered in and hopped on the bed with him.

Varian liked Mochi. The cat had actually been the most welcoming member of the household. That was perhaps unfair to Hiro and Aunt Cass, who really were trying to make him feel at home, with 'trying' being the key word. All of their efforts had felt forced, Aunt Cass with her over eagerness and Hiro with his awkward politeness. But to Mochi, Varian was just another lap to sit on. Nothing special, nothing different, as if he'd always been there, Varian might as well have been part of the furniture as far as the cat was concerned. 

Varian sat there petting the calico cat curled up on his lap, when Ruddiger walked in carrying a banana in his mouth that he'd stolen from the kitchen. The raccoon dropped his treat and sprung upon the bed when he caught sight of the other pet. He indignantly tried to push the other animal off Varian's lap, chittering angrily, but Mochi paid no heed and stayed where he was. 

Varian couldn't help but laugh. "Aww, what's the matter, Ruddiger? Jealous?" 

His raccoon put its paws on its hips and gave Varian a pout. Well as best a pout that a raccoon could give. This only caused Varian to laugh more. 

"I'm sorry, Ruddiger, I don't mean to make fun, but you're being silly. There's more than enough room for both of you." He reached out his hand to pet Ruddiger and added, "Why don't you hand me that banana you dropped and I'll peel it for you?" 

Ruddiger acquiesced to his offer and soon curled up next to Mochi on the bed, munching on the tropical fruit; his hunger overtaking his jealousy. Varian continued to cuddle them both until falling asleep.

                                                  ----------------------

"Varian, honey?" Aunt Cass gently opened the ajar door to peek inside Varian's room. She found him asleep on the bed, still in his clothes with both Mochi and Ruddiger curled up beside him. The sight of which melted her heart. 

She moved his still dangling foot back onto the bed and took a throw-blanket from the living room's couch to cover his legs. She then placed a pillow behind his head so that it wouldn't be leaning against the wall anymore. 

She tried her best not to wake either him or the animals as she attempted to make him more comfortable. It'd been a long time since she tucked a child into bed, both Hiro and Tadashi had outgrown the ritual, and in truth so had Varian no doubt, but her motherly instincts took over anyways. She also couldn't resist wiping his bangs to the side as she so often did for her other two boys as she whispered good night before closing the door and leaving him to rest. 

Cass stood a moment or two outside the door to make sure she'd not woken him up but was greeted by a light snore in response. She gave a sigh, half in relief and half in worry. The move hadn't gone as smoothly as she had hoped and they were all still readjusting to their new lives. 

Hiro was upset, she knew, though he made a big show of being polite in an effort to keep everyone else happy. And as for Varian, well he came with a whole host of challenges that Aunt Cass hadn't been prepared for. 

All the usual problems she expected of kids never happened. He was more than happy to do homework and chores and often volunteered his services to help out whenever he could. In fact he was a little too eager. 

What Aunt Cass had intended to be an easy part time job, Varian had decided was a grave responsibility. He seemed to think that he needed to take on the 'family business' so to speak. She'd caught him reorganizing the food stores, volunteering to bake the donuts early in the morning without telling her so, balancing the books and offering up better deals on coffee beans that he'd found online. He'd even tried to learn how to do taxes. 

That had been the last straw. 

"Varian, you don't need to do the taxes."  

"It's okay, I don't mind. I'd always do the bookkeeping back home anyways. Dad preferred that to me running the plow, and I was always better at math than him." Varian explained blithely. 

Aunt Cass just stood there and blinked at him in confusion. Who'd let their kid do their accounting? True that was probably better than plowing a field all day, but still. 

"Varian, I appreciate that you want to help out, but taxes are my job. At sixteen, your only job should be going to school, making friends, maybe doing a chore now and then. You can occasionally serve customers at the cafe for extra spending cash, but only serving. I don't want you taking responsibility for the whole business." 

Now it was Varian's turn to blink in confusion. 

"But...but I live here now. Isn't the Luck Cat all of our responsibility? I can do it, or do you not trust me?" 

"Oh, Varian, it's not about trust. What kind of parent would I be if I didn't allow you to just be a kid?" 

"But, I'm not a kid. You said it yourself. I'm sixteen. If I don't start now then when will I learn? It's not as if they teach taxes in my advanced physics class." 

Cass had to admit he had her there. When she was teen they had taught home economics in high school, so she had known how to balance a book before ever buying the cafe. Hiro had skipped high school, Varian had never even gone to school before, and according to Tadashi home economics wasn't even a class anymore. She had had a similar discussion with him when he had been seventeen and close to graduating. 

"Okay, if you want to learn how to manage money you can, but we'll start small." 

So she had helped Varian open his own bank account the next day. That way he could deposit his pay from working at the Luck Cat, learn the basics of how to manage funds, and still come to her if he needed help. 

However, that had only resolved one issue. There were still many hiccups that resurged over the week. Some minor, some not so minor. 

For instance Varian didn't know how electric stoves worked and so Aunt Cass had caught him one morning putting his hand directly inside the oven and reciting some nursery rhyme in his native language in order to test how hot it had gotten. Apparently wood-fire stoves were all he had ever cooked on and there of course was no handy light on them to tell you that the oven had preheated. Funnily enough, he was trying to bake cereal, as he'd never eaten the kind you poured milk over and didn't know what else to do with the box of cornflakes Hiro had handed him. He was going to turn them into a pie crust for a breakfast pastry, which Aunt Cass had to admit wasn't a bad idea. 

Then there were less charming faux pas, such as when he dismantled her digital alarm clock to see how it worked. Fortunately, he had been able to put it together again. He was always into something, brimming with curiosity and energy. It was all Aunt Cass could do to keep up.

Still, Cass wouldn’t have traded him for anything in the world. The moment she had picked him up from the police station that day was the moment he had become her child and she’d do anything, put up with any inconvenience, just to give him the love he’d gone so long without. Neither Varian nor Hiro realized it, but Varian had added life back into their little broken home and filled a hole in her heart that had been missing for over nine months now. 

She turned to look at the fading photograph hanging on the wall. It was a picture of her sister and brother-in-law with Tadashi, before Hiro had been born. She missed them all so much. The way her sister would gently tease her about settling down while they shared a cup of tea. Tom’s love of lame jokes that he would try to interject into their conversation. The way Tadashi had inherited his father’s sense of humor and would try to cheer her up when she was feeling down. Nothing would replace them. But she also knew that deep down, that she and Hiro needed Varian just as much as he needed them.

[mymoodwriting]

Blood Moon

Sehun x Vampire!Chanyeol

Genre: Vampire AU

Warning: Blood, Biting, Abuse, Drowning, Suffocation, Trauma, Fear, Anxiety

Words: 2.4K

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Epilogue

Prompt: Sehun’s life had always been uneventful and lonely. People never really stuck around, so when he finds himself kidnapped by a beautiful stranger he doesn’t know how to feel. Should he be happy that he’s wanted by someone or concerned with escaping even if no one would care he was missing. The only other issue was his kidnapper, who clearly wasn’t human.

     With no sense of time Sehun felt like he was going crazy. Even with dry clothes there was a lingering scent of soup which only kept his hunger pains alive. He was really tired, figuring that getting some sleep would be to his benefit, he couldn’t feel hungry if he was unconscious. He wasn’t sure for how long he slept, since when he woke up nothing had changed.

     The second he sat up his stomach cried out again. He looked at the wrappers from the snacks, seeing if maybe he had missed something but there was nothing left to eat. For some reason he tried opening the door again but it was still locked. He looked around the bathroom to see if he could find anything to use as a weapon but there was nothing useful. When he looked at his reflection he could see just how pale he was.

     Despite sleeping he still felt tired, his lack of energy not helping him figure out an escape plan. He rubbed his neck and groaned, finally noticing the two marks on his neck. They seemed to be healing but still rather fresh. He vaguely remembered being attacked by Chanyeol, but was this his injury. He looked closer, making them out to be some kind of bite mark.

 “What the…”

       His injury didn’t make sense, well it did in one context, but come on, vampires weren’t real. It was probably some kinda needle or he was stabbed with a weird knife. He gently touched the marks, suddenly remembering how he felt when he was attacked, it didn’t hurt, it actually felt good, really good. He shook his head, laughing at his own stupidity, maybe he had been drunk that night.

       He suddenly heard the door being unlocked and he rushed over to his corner. He felt dizzy over the fast movement, suddenly wanting to throw up, not like there would be anything but bile anyway. When the door opened another delicious smell engulfed the room and Sehun couldn’t help but whimper.

 “Do you even move?” Chanyeol asked, but got no response. “So, are you gonna eat this time or should I just dump the food and leave?”

 “No!”

       Sehun felt pathetic but he was starving, he wanted to eat. His hasty response brought a smile to the others lips. Chanyeol pulled up the table close to Sehun and put down the tray.

 “Alright then, eat.”

       Sehun stared at the food, then up at Chanyeol.

 “If you’re concerned over me drugging the food I assure you I didn’t. I wouldn’t taint you like that.”

       He didn’t know if he could believe those words but he was hungry. He swallowed his own pride and moved up, starting to eat. The first bit of food in his mouth tasted like heaven and he dug in without remorse. Chanyeol chuckled, petting the other boys head as he ate.

 “Do you want seconds?”

       Sehun nodded shyly, the food was good and he was still pretty hungry. Whatever dignity he had he had thrown out the window by now. Chanyeol took the empty bowl and left, telling Sehun to drink his juice. He never really like cranberry but it seemed to be his only option. When Chanyeol returned he couldn’t help but perk up.

 “While you eat I’ll get you some new sheets okay.”

       This time Sehun had the luxury of eating alone. He really shouldn’t be happy but it had been so long since he had a home cooked meal, and it was really good. When he finished the second bowl he took a moment to see how he felt, he felt fine, so the food hadn’t been poisoned in any way.

       When Chanyeol returned he scurried to his corner, only moving when he was asked to so the sheets could be replaced. Chanyeol stood over him, Sehun staring at the floor, hating how small the space was. His hair was played with for a bit before his chin was grabbed, forcing him to look at Chanyeol.

 “You smell like soup, how about a bath?”

       Sehun didn’t answer, he knew he wouldn’t have a say in the matter. Chanyeol blindfolded him and took him out of the room. He wasn’t sure why, he expected the outside to look like some dungeon, that didn’t stop him from trying to peek and look around, he saw nothing though. They went down a hall then took a right, going into a room, and then another. When the blindfold was removed he found himself in a rather luxurious bathroom.

       The tub could clearly hold at least two people, and it suddenly hit him he was probably gonna bathe with the psycho. Although what hit him first was the fact the he was going to be naked in front of a stranger in a moment. While he had his panic Chanyeol warmed up the water.

 “Come on now, bath is ready.”

 “Um…”

 “Just you, I won’t be joining you this time. Come on.”

       Chanyeol grabbed Sehun’s shirt starting to tug it off. Sehun pulled away, not wanting to be touched.

 “I can clean myself up.”

 “I’m not gonna leave you to do something silly like drown yourself. So strip.”

       Sehun swallowed nervously, there was no winning in that situation but he still didn’t wanna get naked in front of the other. He really should have cause Chanyeol was quick to get frustrated. Although instead of trying to get Sehun’s clothes off again he merely threw the boy into the tub and kept him under for a while.

       Sehun didn’t register what had happened until he found himself struggling to breathe. Chanyeol held him down with ease, the boy uselessly trying to push his way to the surface. It wasn’t until he could tell that Sehun was getting weaker did he let him up. Sehun quickly took in air and climbed out of the tub, curling up on the floor.

 “So, are we going to nicely take a bath now?”

 “Yes…”

       Sehun sat up, taking off his soaked shirt and following with the rest until he stood naked before the other.

 “Good boy.”

       Chanyeol took his hand and got him into the tub, having him sit while he grabbed the essentials. Sehun was quiet, still shaking over his near death experience, while Chanyeol cleaned him up. The other seemed very happy to be taking care of him, as if he was some kind of pet.

 “How’s school?”

 “Hm?”

 “I have your wallet remember, found your school ID. What are you studying?”

       Sehun didn’t answer, it’s not that he was trying to be a nuisance but even he didn’t really know the answer. He should have lied, maybe it would have saved him from the unpleasant look he was getting. Before anything else happened he heard someone else call out Chanyeol’s name. Chanyeol sighed, but got up.

 “I’ll be right back, stay.”

       Chanyeol left the room. Sehun didn’t know how to feel. There was clearly someone else there. He didn’t know if they were just like him, a victim, or not, or if they even knew he was being held captive. He looked around for a towel and got out of the tub, he didn’t want to stay there. If there were other people around maybe he could get help.

       He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom. He was surprised by the room he entered, clearly a bedroom, most likely Chanyeol’s and the bed was far to big for one person. He figured the person who kidnapped him was some lowlife, but then again the bathtub and room screamed money, and a lot of it. It made him more confused as to why a person who could clearly have anything would kidnap someone. If he dwelled on it longer he knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

     He forced himself to focus on escaping and headed for the door when he noticed the phone on the nightstand. He scrambled for it but stopped when he held it, who would he even call. He didn’t really have friends, and anyone else he could call barely knew him, what would he say anyway. That he was kidnapped, they’d take it as a joke and hang up.

       The police were also out of the question, he had no idea where he was, and there was also the chance they wouldn’t believe him and think it was some kind of prank. He was on his own, so he had to find a way out without help. When he put the phone down he felt a nice breeze hit him. He noticed the wall on the other side was covered by curtains, and clearly a window was open, perhaps a way out.

     He thought that maybe he had been locked up in someone’s basement, that they had some nice house in some rich secluded neighborhood, he was very wrong. When he pulled back the curtain he could see a city skyline. He was in some building, and he was many stories above ground, windows were no longer an exit strategy.

 “Nice view right?”

       Sehun yelled when he felt another voice whisper in his ear. He turned around, Chanyeol inches from him, somehow having snuck up on the boy. He was pinned against the window, trying to make himself as small as possible.

 “I thought I told you to stay put, care to explain?”

 “I… I was…looking for some clothes.”

 “Is that really the excuse you’re going to give?”

 “Um…”

       Chanyeol sighed and further pulled open the curtains. He flipped Sehun around so he could look out at the city. Sehun was nervous, his own reflection reminding him he was only wearing a towel.

 “Do you like it? My city?”

       Sehun tried to push the other off him to no avail, it merely got him pressed against the glass. Chanyeol gently stroked his cheek.

 “You don’t look so pale anymore. You’re getting your strength back, that’s good.” Chanyeol noticed the marks on Sehun’s neck. “Huh, I guess I didn’t fix that.”

       Sehun was practically holding his breathe, not sure what was going to happen next. He was in trouble, that was a given going by his situation.

 “Who are you?”

 “Chanyeol, I already gave you my name. And you can stop denying the obvious sweetheart.”

 “What?”

 “You know what.”

       Chanyeol kissed the boys neck, looking into the boys eyes through the reflection, making sure he was watching before exposing his fangs and biting into his tender flesh. Sehun gasped when he saw Chanyeol’s sharp teeth, there was no denying it anymore. Before he could try to push the other away he felt that pleasure from before, unable to resist and giving in. He couldn’t help but watch his own reflection.

       He clearly seemed happy even though he probably shouldn’t have been, it wasn’t his fault though. Despite the pleasure his mind was still trying to wrap around the fact that vampires were real and he was being imprisoned by one. Chanyeol pulled away, his lips bloody, and kissed Sehun’s cheek.

 “Such a good boy aren’t we?”

       Sehun couldn’t think, he couldn’t even register the words being whispered to him, he merely let out a whine when Chanyeol moved away.

 “Patience, we can more fun when you get your strength back.”

       Chanyeol let go of Sehun and let him fall to the floor, licking the blood off his lips while he stared out at the city.

 “Probably shouldn’t have done that, but you have such a sweet taste.”

       Sehun curled up on the floor, his head spinning. He was feeling sick, but really didn’t want to throw up the food he had. He laid on his back after a moment, the room spinning, his hand reached over to his neck, pulling away with blood on it. Chanyeol noticed his actions.

 “Shouldn’t let that go to was-” Chanyeol chuckled. “Do you want help with that?”

       Sehun had no idea what the other boy was talking about, that is until he felt a hand over his crotch, realizing he had a minor hard on. That seemed to perk him up, and he tried to move away but Chanyeol held his towel, if he tried to move he’d end up properly exposed.

 “Please… let go…”

 “Let go? Well you did say please and as much fun as it would be to play with you and have you make pretty noises, it’s not good for you right now, low blood and all that.”

       Hearing that relieved Sehun, he didn’t want to be violated in that way. Chanyeol helped him up and sat him down on the bed, drying off his hair first, then helping him slip into a fresh shirt. It strangely fit well, but Sehun didn’t linger on that much. Chanyeol was nice enough to let Sehun finish dressing himself, handing him a glass of red liquid when he finished.

 “Drink this, you’ll feel better.”

 “What is it?”

 “Drink it or I’ll force it down your throat.”

       Sehun took it and swallowed it as quickly as possible. It was warm and tasted pretty weird but he didn’t question it. The smell hit him moments after and he realized what he just had. He felt like throwing up but Chanyeol grabbed him, putting his hand over the boys mouth.

 “If you throw up you’re going to ruin my floor, besides, you’ll get used to the taste, crave it in fact.”

     He took some deep breaths, only being let go when he was calm. Chanyeol blindfolded him, and gagged him this time around. Sehun might have screamed for help if he could, but the other was two steps ahead of his escape plans. When he got his sight back he wasn’t surprised to find himself back in his little room.

 “Get some sleep, and don’t throw up, I’ll know if you do. Besides, you don’t want to lose that food now do you?”

     Chanyeol playfully patted his belly before kissing his forehead and leaving the room. Sehun laid back on his bed, his new reality finally settling in. His hopes of escaping were slipping away as he processed everything. He wasn’t happy where he was, but it’s not like he was any better off back at school. He whimpered, not sure of anything anymore, the only thing he did know was that he was tired and sleeping might help him figure something out.

[wingsy-keeper-of-songs]

“Now I have something I want to protect. It’s you.”

I changed things up a little here. Instead of Vampire!Nora, we have Vampire!Schultz. I also got inspired by a prompt from @otpprompts I hope you guys like it! It got a little long, but I think I managed all right. Enjoy!

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. All he’d wanted to dowas to find a quiet place to spend a few nights before he set out again. It hadbeen raining and it was cold. Had he been able to feel anything, he would havenoticed his fingers start to go numb. He’d rapped on the large door in front ofhim, hoping no one would answer. The church looked mostly abandoned, and itwould make an ideal place to stay a few nights before he got his bearingsagain. And there would be plenty of rats to feed off of as well. To his dismay,someone answered the door. She was dressed simply in a nun’s habit and she wasfresh-faced, young and quite pretty. He doffed his hat respectfully.

             “Goodevening, Sister. I don’t suppose you know of a place where a weary travelercould stay for a few nights?” He asked. The nun looked at him and his soppingwet clothes, and then she smiled gently, opening the door.

             “I knowof no better sanctuary than a church, sir.” She replied. “Come, we were justabout to start our hymns.” He thanked her and followed her inside. “Our orderis small, but a few of us remain.” She was explaining as she led him around.

             “Are theyall nuns?” He asked curiously as they passed a dormitory. She nodded.

             “Most ofus are. We were wayward souls until Father Martin took us in, bless his heart.”She replied as he followed her up to a room near the rafters. “I hope you’lljoin us for evening hymns,” she said as she paused outside of the door. Hesmiled at her a little sadly and thanked her for her kindness.

             “I’ll seeif I’m feeling up to it.” He said.

That was how he was introduced to Sister Eleanor. She was akind soul and she hungered for knowledge. Being a centuries years old vampirecame in handy for once as he told her stories of places long ago, events thathe had taken place in (which he conveniently left out), and the people he’dmet. He admired how her eyes would shine as she listened with rapt attention.Her thirst for knowledge reminded him painfully of his Paula, now long dead,and it stirred certain feelings within him. He chalked it up to his centuries ofisolation, but as they chatted and grew closer with each passing day, the morehe began to admire her. And she seemed to take an interest in him as well.Every day she would bring him a small meal and visit with him for a few hoursbefore she was called away to her duties. Father Martin suspected a bit ofpuppy love, but he knew Sister Eleanor would remain true to her vows. He alsowas curious about the stranger, and one night he headed up to speak with theman who seemed to know so much. What he came upon nearly frightened the poorman to death. The stranger had caught himself a rat and broken its neck. He wasdraining it of its blood, his eyes normally described as dark and kind, hadturned an unnatural light blue. Father Martin fled in a panic before thestranger had time to explain himself.

             “Dearsisters,” he said to the gathering of nuns. “It seems we are housing a vampire!”The congregation looked frightened save for brave Sister Eleanor who seemednonplussed about the whole thing.

             “NowFather,” she began for she was a pragmatic woman and not one to jump toconclusions. “Surely there are no such things as vampires.”

             “As sureas I stand here before you,” Father Martin said. “He is a vampire. I caught himdraining the life from a rat.”

             “How washe able to get in? Aren’t churches considered holy ground?” One nun asked.

             “He wasinvited by our own Sister Eleanor,” another answered. “A vampire can have freereign of anyplace he so chooses if invited.” She turned to Eleanor in anger. “Youhave brought this demon upon us!” She did not much care for her fellow sisterto begin with. “Now you shall have to deal with him!”

             “Yes, yeslet Sister Eleanor deal with him!” The others cried, quite terrified and quickto latch onto anything that might spare them. Father Martin looked at Eleanorand he sighed deeply. He did not wish to send one of his wayward children up todeal with the demon, but he had little say. Besides, Eleanor had a good head onher shoulders and perhaps the monster could be reasoned with.

             “Sister,”he began, but she was already heading up the stairs.

             “So beit, Father. I’ll put an end to this nonsense.” She said over her shoulder. “You’reall being a bunch of silly ninnies. There isn’t anything to fear from this man,vampire or no.” And Sister Eleanor proved to be quite right. She knocked on thedoor.

             “Enter,”a weary voice answered her. She headed inside and found the stranger sitting onthe bed with his head in his hands.

             “It wouldseem your secret is out,” she said as she sat beside him.

             “Indeed,”he replied. “And yet you do not cower.”

             “Had youwanted to attack me, you would have done so by now.” She answered loftily. “Ihave nothing to fear from you.” He smiled a little sadly, reminded once againof his dear Paula.

             “Shall Itell you another story?” He asked gently. Sister Eleanor nodded and he told herhis tale. He had been a feeder in the past, he told her. Back in the OldCountry, these things were quite common. Vampires often blended in with humansociety in order to feed from them. A few of them were even part of thearistocracy. During the spark of rebellion in Vienna, he and his wife wereroused from their beds, and dragged off to God-knew-where. There, they werekept as cattle for the coven’s master to feed from. The master had taken aliking to Paula right away due to her unnatural beauty and kept her at his sidewhile her husband was left to his own devices. Right away, Schultz began toinitiate an escape. Unfortunately, he was not successful. As punishment, themaster had him turned and starved him in the dungeon cells. Every so often, hewould send a human into the cell where Schultz was waiting. Without a secondthought, he would tear into them and drain them of blood entirely. This went onfor several months until Paula attempted an escape of her own, fearing herhusband to be dead. The master punished her with solitary confinement…in thesame cell as her husband. Poor Paula had been unable to get him to recognizeher and her life was drained by her own husband. At this point, his voice brokeand he looked away, utterly ashamed. Sister Eleanor listened to this sad storycarefully and never once interrupted him. She covered her mouth as tears cameto her own eyes. Schultz continued to explain that eventually, the potency ofhuman blood gave him enough strength to break out of the cell and to brutallykill each member of the coven who had turned him. The master had begged for hisimmortal life, telling him that he could live on the blood of animals instead.Schultz killed him without a second thought. From then on, he made a vow tonever harm a human again. He acted as a protector, a bounty hunter of thesupernatural of sorts. This had gone on for at least a century and he had beenalone ever since. Sister Eleanor placed a hand on his, compassion for him compellingher to do so.

             “What alonely life you’ve led,” she said softly. “I can only hope you find solacesomeplace.” He looked at her curiously and she sighed. “My order fears whatthey don’t understand. They think you’re some sort of monster and they’ve sentme to deal with you as it were. I expect they were hoping you’d kill me.” Helooked almost insulted by this.

             “I wouldnever hurt you, sister. Frankly, I’m surprised at your order. They ought to beashamed to send you up here. You’re a pinnacle of virtue, my dear and Iconsider myself very blessed to know you.” She smiled at him softly and then anidea sort of popped into her head.

             “I mayhave a solution that benefits us both,” she said.

When Eleanor approached Father Martin, unscathed andunchanged, the priest was sure they were not dealing with an ordinary demon. Itseemed the monster had a conscience and after Sister Eleanor explained hisstory to him, Father Martin was surprised to hear that she wished to cast himout. The catch was, she was going with him.

             “I wantto see the world, Father.” She said to him. “And I know I’m not well-liked bythe other sisters of our order. I believe this would be beneficial to thechurch and to our visitor.” Father Martin was loath to send Sister Eleanor awayas she was the most dutiful of the nuns and the most practical. But he couldsee what she meant. Sister Eleanor was a bird not meant to be caged, but freeto spread her wings. So, with a heavy heart, Father Martin bade the good sisterfarewell. Sister Eleanor thanked him for everything and packed what little shehad (a few books and some clothes). The stranger came down the stairs, carefulto avoid eye contact with the other nuns less he scare them, no matter howtempted he was. Sister Eleanor was waiting for him by the door. She smiledbrightly at him and he found himself wishing to protect that smile.

             “Are youready?” He asked. She nodded and the two turned their backs on the church andset out for a new adventure.