#'There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it' UHHHHHH im fine this is fine

[thedeadthree]

— OCS AS A LOVE LANGUAGE.

TAGGED BY: @kingsroad, @chuckhansen, @echo3-1 and @marivenah to take this cutest uquiz for the loves! ty ty <3

TAGGING: @feystepped, @griffin-wood, @risingsh0t, @queennymeria, @denerims, @jendoe, @phillipsgraves, @unholymilf, @morvaris, @aartyom, @jacobseed, @florbelles, @adelaidedrubman, @leviiackrman, @jackiesarch, @loriane-elmuerto, @shellibisshe, @veisshaupt, @aceghosts, @blissfulalchemist, @shadowglens, @malefiicarum, @leondaltons, @pearlcscent, @arklay, @roofgeese and you!

A KNIFE CALLED GRIEF.

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

AN UNDOING INFLUENCE.

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

VIOLENT DEVOTION.

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

A STORY THAT ENDS IN BLOOD.

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don’t care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

CONSUMPTION OF A HEART UNLOVED.

Here’s a dining table, here’s a set of plates. Here’s your heart, red and bursting with love. You have tried to love people all your life, but no one seems to understand you. Your own mother perhaps forgot to teach you how to protect yourself, maybe people whom you trusted chose to look the other way when all you wanted was a hand full of love. All you want is someone to take from you, all you want is someone to dig in your heart and eat it and kiss you afterwards - bloody and red. You want them to tell you that you are what they have been looking for, you want to be the one who ends their hunger.

[jynxd]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Affection language

violent devotion

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

Tagged by: @ferinehuntress

Tagging: @nightmarefuele , @realmyths , @shimmerbeasts , and anyone who wants to do this

[frozenambiguity]

𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞.

violent devotion.

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine.

You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone.

You want to make them realize they are not something terrible; make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it.

And what if they choose to walk away?

Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

tagged by: @captivemuses tagging: @suffearable ; @inardescere ; @maquiscursed ; @daybreakrising ; @narvvhal ; @house-of-tales ; @kcrmicdebt ; @svnsworn ; @ofhope ; @fxrina ; @dinomites ; @eraba-reta-unmei-new ; @electric-ecclectic ; @ccaptain & whoever sees this + hasn't done it yet!

[visionkept]

LET ME ASSIGN YOU A LOVE LANGUAGE.

violent devotion.

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away ? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion ?

tagged by: @myjustice ( *shakes u like a maraca* thank you ! *shakes u again* ).

tagging: @chiheru, @snowtombedstar, @gentle-refrain, @geleum, @mielmoto, @memorigami, @electric-ecclectic, @hitokageisei and idk who hasn't been tagged and at this point, i'm too afraid to ask.

[night-triumphantt]

OCs as a love language.

@sysba beloved tagged me and, I’m devastated by these quiz results (Also idk who to tag??)

Cal - a story that ends in blood

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don't care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

Suraya - a knife called grief

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven't been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you'd do that for them.

Kiara - an undoing influence (I’m so?? Not her nd Edith being the same)

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you'd probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

Silas - violent devotion

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven't yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There's a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn't I say this was violent devotion?

[milayaprintsessa]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀LET ME ASSIGN YOU A LOVE LANGUAGE

violent devotion

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

tagged by: @goldenehaley , @diamondxll

tagging: @alescurw , @derblauegeist , @nght-rider , @stcrseeker , @concreete-jungle

Not 100% true tho but like.. 98%?

[saintsofwarding]

BURIAL

Chapter 12

Come find me, Donna!

A little girl, running through the sunlit garden, her black hair flying behind her as she raced through golden birch trees.

Come and find me!

No. It didn't have to be this way. But it always was. She crushed her hands over her eyes. The yellow flowers were all around, clustering against her, roots twining deep into her skin. Deep, deep inside her, like a parasite.

Don't look don't look don't look.

It squirmed in the back of her skull, spasming in time with her heartbeat.

(It's you and me. Always was! Don't deny it. We only need each other, don't we?)

But it was always her hands, always her that felt it. Always her that did it. She took her hands away. She couldn't help it. She never could.

Claudia stood before her grinning, hands full of flowers, torn up by their roots. They dripped not dirt, but blood, bright and raw and gushing to the grass.

"You found me," she said.

Hands over the eyes. It always has to be this way. And when she looked again, as always, the little girl was gone.

***

"You can never go down to the village," Donna's mother told her. "You set foot past the gates alone, you even think of crossing the bridge, and I'll break your legs myself. I'll take a hammer to you like Lord Heisenberg and break them so badly you shall never walk again. Do you understand?"

She seized Donna by the shoulders.

"She'll come for you," she whispered. "She knows. Who you are, what you're capable of. And if you let her she'll worm into your mind. Like she did when I was a child."

Her eyes fluttered shut. "Bernadette, she called. And I went to her, and my memories after are black pits full of weeping. Years and years and still she has me. I can hear her, even now. She calls to me. She'll call to you. And to Claudia."

The baby slept in their mother's arms. Donna looked at her, the little girl, so precious and so innocent. What did she dream about? What had Donna dreamt of, once, before she became aware of the birdcage world she lived in?

She remembered her parents. Lord and Lady Beneviento in their finery, standing on the manor steps as Mother Miranda came to view the infant. She'd cooed and hummed to little Claudia, laid her clawed hand on the child's head, golden eyes glimmering with something that was almost love.

Donna, hiding behind her mother's legs, had stared up at the Black God's prophetess with furrowed brow, and Miranda's eyes flicked and lit on her.

"Such a serious little thing," Miranda told her. "Don't think I've forgotten about you, Mistress Donna."

Donna blinked. "Forgotten about what?"

"Your potential. You have it. Strong as anything. You carry the blood of the Black God's chosen, child, and never forget. But your sister..."

Still she stroked the baby's head.

"What about my sister?" Donna piped up. "What's wrong with her?"

"Wrong? Nothing. On the contrary. She has great affinity. The greatest." Miranda looked back to Donna's parents, their faces pale and drawn.

"She may prove perfect," Miranda told them.

And her mother gripped her shoulder, so hard it hurt. Later Donna counted the bruises left by her fingers in the bath. One, two, three, four, five.

"You must stay away," her mother warned. "Far away. You and Claudia, always."

Maybe that was why. They leapt from the cliff and Donna screamed and screamed, hiding Claudia's eyes, hugging the little girl as she sobbed into Donna's chest. Later, Donna crept down the cliff path to look for them on the riverbank. Maybe they would be there, springing up between the rocks like marionettes, saying surprise, darling, here we are! It was only a trick!

But she found them, and it wasn't a trick. She gathered their pieces, walked gingerly through the blood. She tried to put them back together but when she was done they didn't look right at all. Some parts were smashed out of shape. Some were missing. Some just...didn't fit. Maybe if she sewed them together, then they'd fit again.

She didn't try. She sat with them, holding her mother's hand. It was one of the few pieces that was still recognizable.

Maybe Miranda had whispered to them. Fly, like I do. Maybe she had wormed her way into their minds and simply unmoored them. Maybe they had only realized they were falling after their feet had left the cliffside.

Either way, it meant there was no one left to protect them. Donna and Claudia, all alone in the big, empty house.

***

Elena moved through the house like a sleepwalker. It loomed around her, a darkened reflection of the real thing, as if she'd stepped through Donna's obsidian mirror and into the shadow world on the far side. Dolls clustered everywhere, on furniture, in corners, sitting at the dining table as if waiting for her to join them, chittering and whispering and giggling to one another.

She heard their footsteps in the echoes of her own, felt their little porcelain fingers plucking at her skirts as she passed by.

She was silent, drawn along as if by a string.

She looked into the kitchen. Donna and Claudia huddled by the stove, Donna no older than nine or ten, tucking a blanket around Claudia's shoulders. They looked like a pair of urchins, clothes ragged, hands gloved, noses red and chapped, crouching over the meager flames.

"I'm cold," Claudia whispered.

"I'll find more wood. Later. Right now, look what I have for you." With a flourish, Donna produced a doll- a crude clay thing dressed in scraps of lace.

"My own Angie!" Claudia took the doll and hugged it. The real Angie sat on the windowsill. Her face was uncracked, her dress clean. A pretty thing, made for a child.

Claudia held the little doll up to the flames. "I wish I could make her warmer."

"Worry about yourself first, Claud."

"Then I wish I was warmer."

"This is just like our ancestors did, a long time ago," Donna told her. "Berengario and his family and apprentices...deep in the snows with the monster wolves howling, crouching in the ruins of an ancient monastery for warmth and protection. They made shadow lanterns with scraps of paper and told stories on the walls. Hands and paper and their own minds, imagining it even as the cold chewed at them."

She stroked her little sister's hair with one thin, pallid hand. They all looked one of a kind, she and Claudia and their mother and their father, cousins bearing the same surname, the scions of an anemic branch. Now they were the last.

"Do you remember what Mama said about Berengario?" Donna asked.

Claudia nodded, fiddling with her new doll's dress. "He cut off his own hand," she murmured. "To feed the starving. So they wouldn't have to go for the children."

Donna nodded.

"Is that what Mama and Papa did? Leaped from the cliff because they were starving, to stop themselves from eating us?"

Donna shook her head. She didn't know how to answer that.

Claudia looked up at her. "Can't you go down into the village? Find more wood for us?"

"No. Remember what Mama said? We don't go past the ravine."

"If...if we only asked for help, maybe Mother Miranda would-"

"No!" Donna's voice was too sharp for such a young child. "No. We don't go to her. We don't ever. Understand?"

Claudia looked away, pouting.

"Ever," Donna repeated. "She'll...she'll forget about us eventually. She will. We just have to be quiet as mice. Can you do that, little mouse?"

Claudia nodded, silent, and even Elena could see the hurt in her eyes, the confusion. The yearning for safety, for an end to the cold. For someone to come save them, someone stronger than her older sister, barely more than a child herself, despite all her best efforts.

"Just think of summertime," Donna told her. "We can go dance in the woods. We can light candles and pretend we're forest spirits."

"...That sounds nice."

"Just imagine it really, really hard. The sun on your skin. Then it's almost like you're warm. If you try hard enough it almost feels real."

***

The dark closed in. Claudia was a child, bright and sunny, laughing in the garden amidst yellow flowers. She raced ahead, pigtail whipping over her shoulder.

Come find me!

***

Elena drifted to the next room. Donna and Claudia faded, and then reappeared; Claudia ran into the room, older, now, and dressed in a lightweight summer frock the color of buttercups, matching ribbons tied in her hair.

"Donna! Look!" She whirled, the dress's skirts flying. Donna descended the stairs, a skinny teenager with black hair drawn into a severe plait. Her eyes widened as she took Claudia in.

"Where did you get that dress?" she snapped.

"Mother left it for me!"

"Mama's dead."

"No! Not our mother. I mean Mother Miranda." Claudia dipped a low curtsy. Donna dashed down the steps and shoved her little sister, hard.

"Hey!" Claudia yelped.

"You're so stupid. Don't you ever listen? Where is she?" "She brought it to the bridge. It's a present."

"You don't accept her gifts. Ever."

"Why not? It's so pretty. She said I was growing up strong." She frowned. "She said I was even more perfect than before. What does that mean?"

"Nothing. She's a liar. If you want a stupid dress, I can make you one. A better one."

"No you can't," Claudia told her, frankly. "You barely have any fabric left. You have to take apart all Mama's pretty clothes to make anything new."

"I can...I can take apart the green velvet robe. You always loved her green velvet robe. Please, Claudia, please." She fell to her knees in front of her sister, gripping her hands. "Please don't ever go to her again. All right?"

"Because of what Mama told you?"

"Yes."

"Mama's dead," Claudia said, an echo of what Donna had just told her. "She jumped and left us. I don't care what she says anymore."

"Please," Donna said. She drew her sister closer. "Please, Claud, please. You're all I have left, you're all I have in the world. Don't leave me. Don't leave."

She pulled Claudia into a hug, her face pressed into her sister's shoulder, her arms wrapped around the child's body, holding her tight. Too tight.

Later, Claudia would count the bruises in the bath.

***

Donna covered her eyes, then peeked, and Claudia was there, face bright with mirth. She took after their father in that way.

Don't look, Donna!

***

The children faded into shadow. The house darkened around them. As Elena climbed the stairs she heard the echo of voices down the halls, through the mezzanine, small ghosts chasing one another in the dark. The dolls thronged around her, more of them than ever. Donna walked from the darkness and back into it, carrying a lit candle. Claudia followed her, laughing, arms full of cut flowers.

Years and years, flickering against the walls. Elena glimpsed it all. Shadow plays and forts built from broken furniture in the attic. Their father's old puppets scavenged from storage and made to chatter and dance. Dress-up in antique ballgowns and paper crowns, festooned with wildflowers gathered from hedgerows and ditches. Scraped knees and lost teeth. Bird's nests and amber earrings. Overgrown gardens and hiding in cupboards to giggle and argue and shush each other, in case the ghosts overheard. A groundskeeper and his family came to stay in the house on the hill, but they rarely saw the two Beneviento heiresses. Sometimes, Donna and Claudia almost forgot there was a world past the ravine at all.

Two young girls, like lost princesses in a fairy-story, wearing balding velvet and ragged satin, little beaded slippers all covered with mud. Somewhere came the rustle of wings; the wind rose and fell, stirring Elena's hair.

"She says I'm ready."

Claudia stood in the darkness. Around her, House Beneviento had ceased to have any structure; it was all cut up and pasted back together at wrong angles, more like an impression of a house instead of the reality. A memory.

There was a small bed near her, and a window, looking out into a starless night. Donna stood opposite, at the door.

"She says it's a gift from the Black God," Claudia told her. "She called it the Cadou. It means present. It gives you powers. Miracles! Like Lord Moreau and Lady Dimitrescu. And Lord Heisenberg. I know you like him. You think he's funny."

"He's not very nice."

"But funny-not-very-nice."

"We talked about this, Claud. We've always talked about this." Donna drew closer. "Why do you want to go to her so badly? It's enough up here, right?"

"It's cold."

"I...I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I miss them. Mama and Papa." She hugged her arms around herself. "Miranda said...when I accept her gift I'll be in a family again. She'll be my mama and I'll be in her family."

"Claudia, you have a family. I'm your family."

"You keep me trapped up here. I don't want to be trapped anymore. I want to go to the village, I want to dance! And Miranda will let me. She'll give me all the dresses I want."

"I know- I...I wanted the same thing, when I was little. But it's not safe. She's like a witch in that old story. She'll lure you away and trap you in a mirror and use your power for her own." Donna stepped closer. "I'll do anything you want, Claudia. I'll...I'll make you things. I'll find a way for us to get out. We can go through the forest, there's wolves but I can find a way. Just please, please stay with me. All right?"

Another step closer. She held out her hands. "Just say yes."

"She's coming tomorrow," Claudia said, shortly. "I told her I was ready."

Donna dropped her hands. "What?"

"I sent her a letter. I told her I'd made my decision. I want the gift, Donna. Maybe she'll give you one too."

"No."

"You're not Mama! She's everyone's mother. She told me. Inside. In my dreams. I can see it. Everything she promised. She can do that, Donna, and you can't!" Claudia stamped her little foot. "I don't want you anymore. I wish you'd go away! Jump off the cliff like Mama and Papa!"

"Shut up. That's enough."

"I hope Miranda makes you disappear," Claudia screamed. "You know, when I have my power I'll make you disappear. I hate you. I hate you-"

And then Donna was across the room, grabbing Claudia by the hands. The little girl kicked and screamed, but her sister was older, stronger; Donna threw Claudia onto the bed and shoved her face into the sheets- "Shut up, shut up, I'll tie you down if I have to so you can't run to her like the stupid little mouse you are-"

She cut off with a yelp as one of Claudia's heels clipped her on the chin, throwing her back. Red dripped onto her hand.

"You kicked me," she said in disbelief.

"Miranda!" Claudia's scream split the silence. Dolls whispered and whispered, eyes shining in the dark. "Miranda! Help me! Come find me! Come find-"

Elena tasted Donna's terror, bitter in her mouth. Donna was back on her knees, leaning over the girl in the bed. She needed to stop screaming. Nothing else mattered but that she needed to stop screaming. "Quiet," she whispered. "Quiet, please be quiet." Her hands pressed over Claudia's face. The girl struggled and kicked.

Donna pressed down harder, over her little sister's mouth, until she wasn't screaming at all anymore.

***

She buried her alone.

***

The dream washed through her like waves, and receded, and left her.

A flutter of heartbeats, a decade of years. The lives of two sisters, lived alongside them, gone in seconds. Reality smoothed over and settled. Elena drew breath, a sharp gasp of the subterranean air. Donna stood before her, Angie in her arms.

She'd gone back. Elena understood. Gone back alone and by the time she reached the house she knew she had to put it away. Donna Beneviento was a survivor. She'd mangled her own mind to do it. She'd buried Claudia so deep inside herself it was like she'd never died at all. Like it had been another girl's hands that had pressed over her mouth, another girl's hands that had smothered the life from her little sister.

Break the mirror, and you never have to look at your whole reflection again. Elena still felt the dirt beneath her own nails.

The grave, dug in the mud. Hacked out with shovels and then with hands.

The still cold body of the child lain to rest within.

"You went to Miranda," Elena said.

Donna nodded.

"You went to her because there was nothing left. You took her gift. The...Cadou."

Another nod.

"Oh, Donna," Elena whispered. A tear slid down her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

Angie gave a little snort. "Not as sorry as you should be," she said, and flung her arms forward. She shoved Elena right in the chest. Elena, who was right by the edge of the old well.

Elena yelped. She tottered backward. The small of her back struck the lip of the well. No- It opened before her, a black pit into nothingness.

She didn't even scream. She tipped backward and fell.

A plunge through empty air, through darkness, wind rushing in her hair. She didn't even feel the bottom, just a crack of cold through her whole body, and then-

-nothing at all.

A darkness absolute.

Unconsciousness like death.

She came to slowly, with the second realization in a far-too short amount of time that she wasn't dead.

Elena floated in a good foot and a half of water. It had gotten in her mouth; she spat it out, plashing noisily as she righted herself; she was soaked through, filthy, so frigid she felt none of her extremities, her gasps echoing around her in the small stone space. She tipped her head back, but the well's mouth was a circle of black slightly lighter than the field of black around her. A sob tore at her throat, and despair clamped down, overwhelming, worse than the cold.

That was when she remembered the rungs.

A small hope. A foolhardy one.

She could hardly hold onto the first rung. It was only through an immense effort that she managed to lever herself to her knees at all, and she chewed down on a wail as the enormity of climbing all the way up to the gray circle struck her.

You have to, or you're going to die here.

She really would, she realized. Never before had it felt so real, so close. All she had to do was close her eyes and let the cold take her. Not so bad; that's what her pa said, anyway. Not so bad, to let the cold creep in, to let Father Wolf latch his kindly teeth in you. The cold would get unbearable, and then she would grow warm, and she would drift away.

Like going out to sea, like fading into the circle of white light, the window to the world glimpsed through old memories.

Nothing, then. No more revelations, no more hardship. No pain and watching people she loved suffer. No more reliving nightmares of dead children and guilt so profound it split the soul in two. The question of the world would be answered, then, her life drawing to a close with a whisper. And all would stay as it was, except that she had driven Donna to hardship, had put her father in danger. Except that she had made all things worse by her actions. And they would remain that way. For everyone. For herself. And there would be no resolution. No remedy. Nothing good, ever again, nothing in all the world.

She wouldn't be able to find Donna, to see if there was hope for a future together. And maybe she was a fool. And maybe none of it was real. Maybe the thing she loved was a shadow, already fading, already lost.

But, saints. She still had to try.

You're not going to die here.

She held on. Her foot went on the rung below. That's the way. She hoisted herself up. Her entire body shook, but she didn't let go. All she had to do was concentrate on not letting go. Another foot followed, and then the next.

It took what felt like hours, an eternity of shaking and freezing and darkness, but that gray circle grew closer, brighter, and the water retreated, the bottom of the well in the pit of House Beneviento, and when she reached the top she let go at last and spilled over the side, collapsing in a heap on the damp flagstones. She'd never felt anything better. Anything, she realized, going forward, was going to be better than the feeling of falling into that blackness, of lying there looking up at all the nothing above.

Donna...

She was nowhere to be seen. Elena crawled upright. Her shake had grown worse. She only had a limited amount of energy before she gave out entirely. She'd have to be fast. She looked up the steps and-

No, don't think, just do.

They were almost worse than the rungs, there were so many of them, and she couldn't see the end, but at last she was up them and in the doll workshop, in the basement of the house proper.

The air was almost warm in here. She half-limped half-crawled down the halls, supporting herself on the wall, leaving a smear of dark, watery filth behind her. She almost cried in relief when the elevator came into view, its interior light so warm and golden. It splintered in her vision.

She shoved herself along the last few steps and collapsed inside. The up button went click. She fell to her hands and knees, breathing hard, feeling like she might be sick.

Ding, went the elevator at the top.

Someone yanked back the gate.

Elena struggled to her feet at the dark silhouette before her. His beefy shoulders almost filled the hallway, round glasses reflecting the elevator light. Lord Heisenberg? Elena's exhausted brain struggled to comprehend.

"What are you doing here?" she burst out.

"Oh, wow, you look like shit," Heisenberg said. "Miranda sent me. Something about you getting up to some world-class fuckery."

Electricity sparked and spat, leaping from bar to bar on the gate. The chain that had secured Donna and Angie in the front hall snaked from nowhere and twanged, tight as a noose, around Elena's leg. With a wrench and pulse of blue energy, it yanked her bodily off her feet. She hit the ground with a thud, then swooped skyward, the hall spinning upside down.

Blood rushed to her head and she let out a strangled yelp, eyes wide as Heisenberg dangled her by the ankle like a hooked fish. He sauntered up to her, grinning, and cocked his head, bending to look her right in the eyes.

"Where's Donna?" Elena spat.

Heisenberg shrugged. "You should be worried about yourself, sweetheart. Guess what? You've won yourself a free trip back down to the village!"

***

He didn't make her walk, but wound the chain round her body and hoisted her into the air with his power, floating her along with one upraised finger. Blue energy crackled and spat round his body, wreathing him in its eerie glow; Elena's body prickled and hummed each time the sparks cascaded down her chains.

"You don't have to do this," Elena stammered. "I'm not trying to take down Miranda. Just free Donna. She's tortured by her power-"

"Good!" Heisenberg looked up at her. "She's inflicted it enough on others, why not have a taste of her own medicine? You wouldn't think it to look at her, would you? Looks kinda sweet, but she's just as fucked as the rest of us in the cranium." He let out a bark of laughter, pressing his finger to his temple.

"That's...that's the point. She told me about what she did to you...what happened to all of you. It's just the same as what Miranda does to all of us in the village-"

The chains tightened with a crunch. Elena gasped, white trembling behind her eyes. Heisenberg's face had gone still and cold.

"You shut your fuckin' mouth before I throw you off this goddamn cliff," he snarled. "You don't know a thing about it. Whatever the little blackbird sang to you she's a fuckin' liar, just like Mother. Understand?"

Elena choked out a wheeze, but nodded.

"Thought so." The chains loosened. He didn't look at her again, or speak another word, all the long way down the mountain path.

Elena smelled the village before she saw it- mud and bonfires and the smell of cooking, familiar spices bringing tears to her eyes. People scuttled out of the way as Heisenberg threw open the gates from the Giant's Chalice and strode into the village itself, not sparing a glance to the townsfolk dropping to their knees in the snow around him. He'd lit a cigar, and the blue smoke billowed into the dark night sky, the snow descending once again in veils and gusts.

Donna, please be okay.

Through the familiar streets and byways, past yards of goats and children staring silent from behind fences, clutched to their mothers' legs. Elena knew where they were going, and stifled a sob. All of this had gone so wrong. By the time her father's house came into view, she'd begun to shake again, a full-body quiver she couldn't hold back. Heisenberg kicked open the house door and flung Elena through- she smacked the ground and rolled, coughing, coming to a halt face-up before the dining table.

Her father sat at one side, dressed in his best clothes. Andrei sat at the other, eyes wide and shining in the warm firelight. And at the table's head, wings spread, resplendent in black and gold, sat Mother Miranda. She smiled down at Elena on the ground, still trussed up like a midwinter goose.

Behind her, Heisenberg set his hammer against the ground with a clang and leaned on it, expression unreadable. The hearth flames flickered on the lenses of his dark glasses.

"Well done, my son," Miranda said, after a moment.

"Thank you, Mother," Heisenberg said. If Miranda detected any trace of mockery in his tone, she didn't show it. She spread her gilded hands, a giving saint glowing in the firelight.

"You've given me far more than I thought possible, child," Miranda said. "Showed me my control can be...shaken. Showed me there are far fewer believers in the fold than I assumed. Not only you, traitor, but my own daughter, too. Hiding her fears and weaknesses. Hiding her secrets, her abilities. All this time, locking her true capabilities away in that tomb of a house, and herself the corpse at its heart."

Elena's father threw a terrified glance from Elena to Miranda. Andrei began to pray, hands clasped together on the table, Elena's jawbone amulet clenched between them.

"She's...she's not your daughter," Elena managed. She coughed; blood slicked down her chin. She must have bitten her tongue when Heisenberg dumped her on the floor. "You stole her real parents. All of them...stole them from their lives...made them your...your devotees when they didn't want any of it..."

"Do you realize how mad you sound, Elena? Me, steal those who are already beholden to the Black God's protection? I give them the power they were born to hold. The strength they were made to wield! Who would deny that?"

"An unwilling child!"

"Enough." Her voice was ice, and Elena felt it, her own control slipping, Miranda's talons gripping the edges of her mind. She was so strong. Terror slid up her throat, bitter and acid. "We had a deal, Elena. And you broke it."

"Please, Mother Miranda," Elena's father broke out. "I'm begging you. Take me instead. Don't take her. She did this all for me, like you said. Right? She's just being a loyal daughter. And she is. She always was."

He looked down at her, eyes crinkling as he gave her a shaky smile. "Best I could have asked for."

"Hush, Pa," Elena managed. "You just be quiet. It's all right."

"A loyal daughter," Miranda echoed. "Dutiful and true. You're right, Leonardo. She is. So she will understand the weight of a promise, won't she? And a promise must be kept. Or broken."

Gold flashed in the firelight: claws.

Heisenberg bowed his head as Andrei cried out in horror.

Elena could only watch, paralyzed, silent, her mouth open as if she might call out for her father as Miranda's gilded talons closed around his head.

"Forget," she breathed.

There was a wet cracking, a snapping; her father gasped as blood burst from his mouth, spattering the table in a spray of dark red. Miranda's eyes glowed. Power rippled, bitter in the firelit air. Elena's father shuddered; his eyes rolled back as Miranda's talons dug into his forehead. With a curl of her lip, she released him.

He slumped to the tabletop, right in the blood. Splack. Elena's vision shocked white, red, black around the edges. Her father was so still. He stared into nothingness. He was breathing, but- his eyes, what was wrong with them, there was nothing in them.

"A body is a body," Miranda said, "and yet has use. But his mind had run its course. He won't remember you, child." She flexed her bloodied talons. "Never again."

Pa- Elena's voice caught in her throat. She struggled to her knees, but weight dropped onto her shoulder, holding her in place. Heisenberg's hand.

No, let me go- let me go to him, let me put him back together- Like Donna had tried with Violeta, but it could never be put back in once it was gone, could it? Lost, Donna whispered. Lost forever.

"Now," Miranda said. Her voice was a little unsteady, full of a weird, sharp thrill. Her eyes were bright behind the mask. "This unpleasantness could have all been avoided, Elena. What a shame. Heisenberg, where's Lady Beneviento?"

"Fuck if I know. Didn't see her skulking around the house."

"She'll be there. Hiding from me. She won't reveal herself without provocation. Take the traitor and lure her out."

"And her?" He gave Elena a little shake. She hardly felt it.

"Kill her in any way you see fit."

His grip tightened on her shoulder. He was quiet for a long time. Elena's father's blood dripped to the rug. He lay there like a corpse, his brow slightly furrowed, staring at her sightless.

Why couldn't she feel anything? It was like a great silent nothing where just moments before had been a storm.

Come on. Cry. Scream. But there was just emptiness. She wished she could pass out, never wake up. She wished all of this would just go away.

Heisenberg still hadn't spoken. Elena glanced up and found him staring down at her. She wondered, fleetingly, distantly, what his eyes looked like under the glasses. What was he thinking? She remembered what Donna had said about him. A scared child, stolen, cut open, betrayed. No one ever stopped being a scared child, not deep down inside.

"Heisenberg," Miranda snapped.

"Hm," he said at last. "Nah."

Miranda blinked.

"...What?" she said, her voice pure ice.

"She's too valuable to kill," Heisenberg said. "How long's she been up there in the house of horrors? Month and a half? All that time, her brain and system soaking up Donna's acid trip flower juice. Donna doesn't usually let go of her playthings while they're still breathing, but now? Here one is, ready to go! Look at her. She's marinated like a lamb chop. Give her to me, and I'll saw open her skull, get a good look at her internal workings. Fascinating, to see how she ticks when she's tripping out of her mind on hallucinations."

He grinned. "A hell of a weekend, at any rate."

Miranda said nothing, but Elena felt the surge of power, the bitter smell of mold gusting through the room. Darkness snaked across the walls: black, glistening tendrils, roots or veins. The fire extinguished with a hiss. Feathered shadows filled the room, glorious, ghastly, as Miranda rose from the table and unfurled her wings. Andrei pressed his face into his hands, rocking back and forth in his chair.

Heisenberg snapped rigid. He gasped, the sound scraping from him like a knife against stone. Lightning crackled round him, unearthly radiance, underlighting him ghastly from beneath, but Miranda had him. She had him without having to lift a finger.

"Take her," Miranda said. Her voice echoed through the bones of the house, through the depths of Elena's still, cold mind. "Kill her. Bring me Beneviento. Now."

And Heisenberg's hand slid to the back of Elena's head, fingers winding through her hair. He yanked her off her feet and marched her stiffly to the door, shoving her without ceremony back into the frigid night wind.

[seoulstreasureheart]

LET ME ASSIGN YOU A LOVE LANGUAGE

VIOLENT DEVOTION

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

tagged by : @zauberhafte-zauberscherze (thank you!)

tagging : @thegxdofwar, @gatespride, @nght-rider, @stout-hearteed, @chain-scythe & @cursdflame

[monmuses]

WHAT IS YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE?

violent devotion

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

an undoing influence

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

tagged by: @diistortion (thanks :3) tagging: @nebula-drcams @pompedia @hxzelwallflower and you! steal it from me

[halchron]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄.

violent devotion

everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. this world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. you want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. you want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. there’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. and what if they choose to walk away? didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

tagged by: @chaieos ( ty ! ) tagging: @danhang, @kazekamis, @insomniastar, @rosariens, and whoever else wants to do it !

[aezyrraeshh]

; OC AS A LOVE LANGUAGE

tagged by @indorilnerevarine to take this quiz for some of my ocs; thank you so much for the tag! <33 tagging @arklay @aartyom @risingsh0t @steelport @devilbrakers @liurnia @florbelles @shadowglens @calenhads @aelyosos @jillvalcntines @shepardgf @swordcoasts @cultistbase @brujah @girlbosselrond @camelliagwerm @reaperkiller @faarkas @veisshaupt @celticwoman & whoever else wants to do this!

; a knife called grief

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything. You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

; an undoing influence

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

; violent devotion

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

[leviiackrman]

OC Love Languages;

I was tagged by the wonderful @roofgeese @simonxriley @echo3-1 @marivenah @chuckhansen + @indorilnerevarine to use this uquiz for my babies, thank you sm beloveds ily all🤍 apologies it took so long!

Tagging: @liurnia @denerims @shadowglens @solasan @duffmckagans @queennymeria @confidentandgood @florbelles @risingsh0t @arklay @shellibisshe @jackiesarch @noonfaerie @jennystahl @jendoe @malefiicarum @sstewyhosseini @thomrainer @jacobseed @kingsroad + @heroofpenamstan

VIOLENT DEVOTION;

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion.

A KNIFE CALLED GRIEF;

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything.You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.

AN UNDOING INFLUENCE;

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

A STORY THAT ENDS IN BLOOD;

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don’t care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

[marivenah]

What is your OC's love language?

I was tagged by @natesofrellis @socially-awkward-skeleton @echo3-1 and @purplehairsecretlair to do this really interesting uquiz! Thank you for the tags, beloveds 💙

sending out tags to; @sstewyhosseini @risingsh0t @poisonedtruth @hoesephseed @thomrainer @confidentandgood @aceghosts @indorilnerevarine @adelaidedrubman @josephslittledeputy @strangefable @ghastlyrider @noetikat @jackiesarch @jacobseed @leviiackrman @shadowglens @shellibisshe and you!

a story that ends in blood

The world has always been unkind, and when you have turned to yourself for comfort you have come face to face with an empty pit which seems to be laughing. You don’t care if it kills you but once you find someone whom you love and who loves you back, you will make sure nothing happens to them. They are yours. You will make a tear in this world and create a new place for you and your love if it comes to that. Because it has always been about love, and it is how it always ends.

consumption of a heart unloved

Here’s a dining table, here’s a set of plates. Here’s your heart, red and bursting with love. You have tried to love people all your life, but no one seems to understand you. Your own mother perhaps forgot to teach you how to protect yourself, maybe people whom you trusted chose to look the other way when all you wanted was a hand full of love. All you want is someone to take from you, all you want is someone to dig in your heart and eat it and kiss you afterwards - bloody and red. You want them to tell you that you are what they have been looking for, you want to be the one who ends their hunger.

an undoing influence

Can someone tell you what to do? You have been carrying so much love within you for so long it is starting to turn into anger (why does it matter, all you see is red anyways) and you have been dragging this body through each day and every night you are split open on your bed and it is so so so lonely. If someone were to walk in while you were on your bed that way and they stitched you back in a new way, lining the seams with their love and kisses, you’d probably find this dreary world a little more bearable. You want someone to turn you over and over until you look in the mirror and see yourself looking back at yourself with a gentleness which has been lacking in you since forever.

violent devotion

Everyone seems to think you are faithless, but the thing is you haven’t yet found someone who will bring you to your knees and make you raise your head in reverence. This world has stopped bringing you joy, you want more of the divine. You want to dedicate your entire existence to someone; you want to make them realise they are not something terrible, make them see just how much beauty they are bringing to this world. You want to be the only one for them, the only one they have chosen to love. There’s a god shaped pit inside of you and only they can fit in it. And what if they choose to walk away? Didn’t I say this was violent devotion?

a knife called grief

You have left your house, you have left those people behind, but what are you going to do about the memories which have taken root in you? You can run but not without them. You want someone to sit with you on this cool marble floor while the sun burns everything. You want them to cut your rotten heart and theirs too. You want to sit with it in front of you, let them see you with all your flaws, which haven’t been your fault but you have been made to believe so, and you want them to love you anyways. Because you know you’d do that for them.