#I love sickly unhinged white men

[starfallkaz]

Where are my legendborn girlies at I need to scream about Selwyn Kane with people cuh when I tell u this man is so fine ONGOD 😭😭

[deftmeat]

‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ 彡 ‎ ‎venom!harry knows you’re in denial

‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎

NSFW ( love my men feral and insane )

w a r n i n g : really HEAVY explicit content. non con, bondage by symbiote powers?, spit play. yeah this one got away from me.

inky black tendrils snaked up your arms, roughly pinning them above your head- snuggly gripped around your wrists, so tight it began to make your hands numb with a dull ache.

“harry.. please..” you had begged for a while now, but it was rather pointless. the black tar had concealed your best friend entirely, leaving drastically white and sharp slits in the center of what was its face paired with just below them, massive teeth that could be compared to miniature sharp daggers.

“we are not harry.”

the alien holding harry captive insisted, it’s low raspy voice sending shivers down your body and settling in a heavy lump right in your stomach.

the looming creature leaned in toward you, only for you to turn away from its menacing glare, refusing to look it in it’s cloudy white eyes.

but it wasn’t too pleased with your defiance, large black tentacle like limbs slithered up your back and twisted around your throat, tightening and yanking your face back parallel to his. not only was it effective in forcing your attention back but you felt the air in your lungs constrict. and when you gasped, that’s when the alien lunged it’s head forward and unhinged his massive jaw- a long and slimy, throbbing tongue dragged out.

you flinched when you felt warm slick saliva hit your collarbones as it fell off the wet muscle, said tongue moving to ghost your bottom lip, threatening to dip inside your mouth.

you snapped it shut and the creature growled, the white slits in its face narrowing.

“bad..girl..”

the degradation made your heart drop. you weren’t sure if it was out of how unsettled you felt or the fact you were overwhelmed. between feeling it’s uncontrollable touch all over your trapped body or how it regarded you with such intense attention.

“harry…” you whispered, squirming but with no intention of escaping. it made the creature grimace, knowing you wouldn’t relent until you saw him.

so with a jerk of its head, it pulled back, the dark ropes slinking away, tucking themselves behind the back of a very pale and sickly looking harry.

you took him in while you had the opportunity- his under eyes were smeared with a dark red and bruising purple, black veins framing his face along his jaw. your eyes traced them down, seeing them webbed and tangling until they disappeared into the collar of his wrinkled grey t-shirt.

“you’re very stubborn.” was all he said, leaning back to examine how his counterpart had you all spread out and imprisoned before him. he could really see the resemblance of a mouse in a rat trap.

“don’t listen to it.” you ignored his statement, following through with the initial reason you even came to find him. “it doesn’t want to help you, it only wants to feed off you.”

but your prodding irritated harry, unconsciously making venom squeeze itself harder over you. it earned himself a high pitched cry from you and he watched while your face scrunched up in pain.

“you don’t know anything. you don’t know us.”

you didn’t like how bonded he was with that thing, using third person to regard it and himself.

“no but i know you-“ you countered, yanking on the tendrils clamped over your wrists. so hard you felt like you could dislocate your shoulder.

there was a brief flicker of something in your best friend’s eyes, his face momentarily softening at your words. there was some of the harry that you knew still in there. but he must’ve been told to think otherwise because the look was gone and he replaced it with a deep frown, once again inching his face down to yours.

“is that why you didn’t reach out to me? used peter as your little messenger the entire time i was gone?”

the accusation hurt but you deserved it, “i was scared- okay? i had feelings for you that i couldn’t-“ you were cut off by your own whimper, the tar limbs around your neck only gripping tighter.

“and when i came back, you avoided me. pretended like you didn’t recognize me.” harry’s voice turned rough, eyes wild and locked onto yours, which began to water and obscure your vision.

“ha..rry-“ the feeling in your head was getting light and full of tingles but harry wasn’t going to let you pass out just yet. he made venom retract from your neck only to be replaced by harry’s own large and black veiny hands. his grip was notably more weak but still firm.

“do you know how long i waited to see you again? how badly i wanted to..” but he didn’t finish his sentence, instead letting his head drop with a quiet sigh.

you took the moment of silence to grab a deep breath of air, panting from your previous lack of oxygen. before you could try and plea with harry again, he lifted his head, his face this time was troubled. but still held with the erratic power that coursed through him.

he didn’t say anything but you could feel the conversation he was having with himself. maybe you were closer to convincing him than you thought?

of course, that presumption was quickly proven wrong when the ropes holding you captive shoved you down with brutal force. you felt your spine crack and your back blossom with a burning heat- now being pinned to the cold cemented floor.

harry only took two steps to hover over you, the dark shadows casting down on his features making him look menacing.

“now you’ll feel as i felt. hopeless. vulnerable.”

you didn’t have time to ponder what he meant by that before you felt large pulsating tentacles glide over your hips and sides. it was briefly ticklish but you were too distracted to care when you looked down.

venom was starting to twist itself around your midriff, tendrils slowly lifting your shirt up your stomach and exposing your bellybutton. it left the fabric bunched up just below your tits, your entire lower half revealed to the darkness and harry’s eyes.

“what..” you opened your mouth just to have it stuffed full with venom. your words of refusal were muffled, watching the same limbs in your mouth now hooking through your waistband and tugging them down, almost impatiently. they swirled around the material before ripping holes into it and using the breaches to tear the pants into two with a loud sccrrrp.

with eyes widened and shouts concealed, you were helpless to prevent the destruction of your clothes. harry had been a bystander while it happened, his eyes tracking every action as if he were mentally communicating with the alien to do what he wanted to you.

he felt satisfied with how he left you now, underwear on display for his hungry eyes, one shoe off your foot and shirt stuck to your sweat sticky skin.

“doesn’t feel too good, does it?” he tsked down at your trembling body, still held down by his partner. your retort was obviously incoherent but harry didn’t bother to ask venom to retract from you to hear it properly. no, instead he got him to flip you around.

the cry you released vibrated in your chest just as the tendrils looped down to roll you over- wrapping around your thighs to lift your hips up and tuck your knees under yourself. the pressure you felt on your back caused your back to arch down and your cheek to squish right up against the cold floor.

harry had you face down and ass up- hands still bound by venom but above your head. the new position made your shoulders and back ache while your neck cramped with the strain.

at least the stifling gag you had was now removed, spit from your mouth connected to the slithering dark snake. it retreated and left your line of sight, but you felt it rather than saw it as it crawled up your forearm and bicep to keep you stuck as you were.

“please.. dont.” your voice was hoarse after all your attempts to voice your protests despite being suppressed. the only answer you got was a strong force pulling your legs apart. it frustrated you that you couldn’t see what harry was doing- and he knew it. he wanted you riled up and pissed off.

“oh, come on now. don’t tell me you aren’t into this, even just a little bit.” his voice mocked from behind you, the sound of him closer than it was before. he was walking closer, eyes zeroed in on your underwear clinging to your ass, the way he had you on the floor making the fabric hug your body in a way he could see the exact lines of where your asscheeks began and ended. not to mention inbetween them.

“this.. isn’t you!” struggling only made your ass bounce and now.. harry needed to touch you for himself. he crouched down and you could feel the movement, anticipation and anxiety flooding your stomach like a waterfall.

once he was level with your ass, he automatically reached out on instinct, smacking it to watch gravity take effect and ripple under the impact. your reactions encouraged him, big veiny hands moulding against the soft flesh hidden under the cloth, long fingers pressing down to grab a large handful of you.

you felt nauseous at the idea of your best friend touching you like this, having his way with you while he had an alien- not from this planet- hold you down and make you endure it. if peter told you this is how you’d end up an hour ago you wouldn’t have believed him. this scenario was so crazily obscure that he probably couldn’t have predicted this. you definitely weren’t into it.

harry would prove you wrong, oh so wrong. you were just in denial. denial about how you felt about us. he wanted to prove you wrong. he was going to, no matter what it took.

he lifted his hand off you, the spot he had placed it was left with a sizzling warmth that pulled at you in the worst way. like you knew that wasn’t the worst of what he wanted to do to you.

“you shouldn’t have come looking for me.” the force on your back lightened only to be replaced with a sturdy weight, body heat coaxing you to remain placid and still.

“you should’ve listened to pete.” harry’s voice was low and thick, right next to your ear. you tried to shift yourself to get more comfortable under the new pressing body on top of yours but he went limp causing your face to get more mushed up against cement.

“such a bad girl. but it’s okay. i’ll forgive you,” you felt like he had more to say but he left it to linger in the darkness between you two- or three.

the crushing weight left and once again venom slunk his tendrils over and around you to take over. but harry didn’t leave you, no, he only got off you so he could slip his greedy rough hands under the elastic of your last remaining piece of dignity on your lower body.

a soft, amused laugh poured from from his mouth at the sound of your surprised gasp, soon morphing into a strangled groan when he selfishly teased your clit. he had his fun, the pads of his index and middle fingers each pressing down on either side of your slit and pushing outwards, spreading you open underneath your panties.

“ahah- h-har,” it was difficult to talk due to you currently eating cement, your hips shrinking away from the way he held your pussy lips apart. warmth flooded your abdomen and between your parted legs, a fresh gush to coat his prying digits.

“shit.” harry grunted, his own stomach clenching with a rush of awakened lust. you sounded so submissive and malleable by just a simple stimulation. he found it kind of cute. venom must’ve too, the voice inside his head hushed but clear, ‘must.. be corrupted.’

you did. you deserved to be shown how good having this much power feels. to be broken down into nothing and then built back up, all because of us.

without so much of a warning or indication of what was about to happen, harry flicked his wrist and delved two fingers inside your puffy cunt. it wasn’t as wet as he had wanted it to be, a bit disappointed in venom for being so impatient but shoved them deeper nonetheless.

it milked a mewl out of you, your hips jerking back and legs twitching from underneath your stomach. your knees where already aching from holding such an uncomfortable position for so long but the sudden fullness pressing against your unexpecting, raw walls caused you to thrash around in your black confines and everything hurt much worse than before.

“fuhhkk!” your voice cracked and drawled out the curse, eyes fluttering closed at being stretched without care. “take it. know you can.” with the battle of venom’s influence in his head, harry’s demand came out gravely and harsh. to convince you more, he swirled his fingers inside and turned them over so that the back of his hand was facing upwards while his inner wrist was directed to the floor.

the feeling of him moving inside of you made your stomach constrict and your pussy to stutter around his long inky veined digits. harry took this as a good sign and continued, a small smile playing on his lips.

“that’s it. feel you sucking them in.” he muttered, doing something you didn’t expect. he curled his fingers down, purposefully hitting that spongy spot in the upper part of your cunt. he used the advantage of your current form and it helped his fingers sink deeper, his other fingers tucked into his palm like they would be in a fist.

no matter how much you had tried to prepare to stifle a potential moan- you couldn’t stop the one that burst past your lips, eyes rolling back contrary to your determined will. it only got louder the faster harry fingered your pussy, obscene wet squelches coming from inside your drenched underwear. the fabric moved every time harry pulled out and dived back in.

“g-g-uhhh..” you sounded so ruined, it made harry eager to keep going. he knew his cock was leaking just by how much it kicked inside his jeans without even looking down. he was so desperate to replace his fingers with his dick but that was venom pressuring him to destroy your last droplets of composure and pride.

he needed to be patient, he countered the parasite in his system. he wouldn’t relent until you were full and leaking his cum, he was determined on that. but first he needed you to be begging for it. hungry to belong to him.

“p..leeese.. hareey..st-ooop.” he felt spurred on by your slurs and hiccups, his other hand dipping into your waistband elastic on your lower back to slide it off over your ass. but it was too slow for venom, his own dark slug-like limb reaching out to rip the garment off you in pieces.

the lack of reaction on your slumped over end proved just how drunk you were alone on the sensation between your messy thighs, not even the cold air attacking your sensitive clit was not enough to garner anything out of you besides mumbled whines and lazy whimpers from harry’s consistent assault.

he scooted closer behind you, moving to kneel down since his cock was straining too much against his pants for him to crouch any longer. now that he was able to actually see what his fingers looked like fucking in and out of you like this, he needed to get his stupid jeans off right goddamn now.

using his other unoccupied hand, he sloppily undid his belt, the clinking of the metal was drowned out over the sounds you made when he added a third finger, your slick drizzling down his knuckles and palm, reaching past his wrist to his forearm. harry made no attempt to sooth you while he pried open your swollen and abused pussy, too focused on relieving his own angry cock.

you couldn’t really feel your hands anymore, pins and needles running through each nerve every time you tried to bend each finger or make a fist. venom had you in a deadly lock, deep red and purple mixing together to stain your skin for more than just one day. you’d be surprised if he didn’t break them either, the tendrils clamping down harder the more harry got closer to rutting his dick in you. he wanted you to know you couldn’t prevent it. couldn’t escape it or hold it off for much longer. you were fucked. about to be- literally.

the pressure on your head lifted momentarily and you were able to look back over your shoulder- just in time to get a good eyeful of harry before he yanked his fingers out of you. you groaned instinctively at the loss of being filled, some of your sticky slick being taken along with his hand. harry lifted his arm up and stared at it, mesmerized at the way your juices looked on his skin, contrasting the inky webs that littered his entire body.

his eyes lowered to meet yours once he noticed you watching him and he smirked smugly, his tongue slithering out to trail up his pale wrist and palm. your eyes flitted to catch it, seeing the way he swirled around his index finger and put it in his mouth, sucking you clean off of it. and damnit, did your cunt sputter around nothing, eager and begging to feel his mouth on your folds.

but harry was done with foreplay. he could fucking smell how badly you needed him inside and pounding your dripping pussy. unbeknownst to you, he was kind enough to let you lift your head up, knowing you’d look back. knowing you’d give into your primal desire to be fucked like the pretty little slut you had always wanted to be for him. you just weren’t aware of it. yet.

“i don’t think y-you want me to stop.” he retorted but his voice cracked from how clouded his head was, the blood no longer in his head but prominently flowing through his cock- the fleshy pink tip was leaking large glistening drops of precum, pale white and travelling down his veiny dick to pool at his balls that throbbed with a growing urge to empty in you more than once.

“is this what you wanted? when you came looking for me?” harry tried to steady his voice, unable to help but buck his hips with longing for friction, the hand he used to split you open curled down to grab his cock, teasing his balls on the way down.

“n..no-o..” you sniffled, body simultaneously aching and yet buzzing with how aroused you had become far beyond how you originally felt when you first decided to confront your best friend.

“no? you sure about that baby?” that same mocking tone hit your ears before harry took his cock and prodded the spot between your cunt and asshole before dragging it down, running his wet tip along your swollen and red pussy lips. you clenched your teeth before your moan slipped through the gaps passed your lips, his precum mixing with your slick and effectively getting you wet enough so he could fill you to the brim- to which he did until he could feel the ridged and bumpy surface of where your cervix began. but it wasn’t enough for him, harry groaning with possessiveness and venom’s inability to let things go, pushed deeper still, painfully pressing against the wall even though there wasn’t much space for him to go.

you yelled out, eyes shutting as tears fell from your waterline and made long streaks stain your face. the pain mingled with the rest of the soreness that collected along the entirety of your body, heightening your awareness of how harry and venom were everywhere around you, your pussy disobeying your consciousness and squeezing the intruding cock inside.

which you dreaded because harry loved it, his palms smacking heavily down on your hips, finger tips digging down into your skin and tugging you into him, taking you again and just as aggressively. no matter how much you begged him to slow down, he sped up, lowering his weight back onto you, only this time, dipping his head to yours so he could suck big, prominent hickeys and marks into the back and sides of your neck.

he fucked you fast, pistoning his own hips in a dominating pace just to be sure you could feel every single inch of him inside you. you definitely could, there was no doubt. it didn’t help when you felt him grab a fistful of your hair and force your head back, tilting your chin to angle it perfectly for him to lean in and spit inside your mouth.

“swallow.” he commanded you- you listened, opening your mouth after to prove you did just as he said. so he did it again but told you not to eat it, instead shifting his weight evenly so he could bring his hand up and make you take his fingers in your mouth just as he had earlier to his own.

you let him twirl his fingers around your tongue, scooping up his own saliva and playing with it inside your mouth before he pulled them out and moved them out of sight.

you thought nothing of it though, way too invested and absorbed with his cock dragging along your drippy pussy, his body trapping you against the floor, relentlessly thrusting himself in you brutally. not until you felt pressure along your asshole and something push inside.

“gonna feel all of me. mine now. ours.” the voice in your ear sounded a million miles away, your jaw going slack when harry forced his finger passed the tight ring above the same sloppy cunt he was fucking. it felt like you couldn’t breathe due to the tension building up inside your pelvis and spine, unable to speak out and protest against whatever the hell he was doing.

you certainly didn’t miss the revisted use of third person and felt the progress you assumed you had slip away. harry wouldn’t listen to you- wouldn’t listen to peter or mary jane. he wasn’t past saving- yet was just as much of a hypocrite. he was the one in denial.

and you could tell, as he used your devastated holes, using you as his last connection to himself. to who he was before.

proving you right, harry took his finger away from your tight hole and quickly sank his teeth into a particularly sensitive spot below your jaw next to your ear, your hips stuttering into his. you didn’t get to have any sort of release because harry dug his nails into the flesh of your sides, leaving behind crescent shapes as he dragged them down. he clawed at you, growling out in unsettling animalistic and creature like way before you felt his cock throb and jump inside you.

you barked out in a demand for him to pull out but venom was quicker, muzzling you like a dog and holding your face flat against the hard floor.

you felt hot blood ooze out of your nose, down your upper lip and straight onto the cement- while harry jerked and slammed his pelvis into your asscheeks, giving a rather weak thrust before letting out a deep moan, one of his hands removing itself from your side to smack on your lower back and hold you down.

yet during his sloppy orgasm- you felt heavy and burning ropes of semen pour out and splatter your insides. it wouldn’t fucking stop either, it just kept coming, pumping itself more and more until it formed a white ring around the base of his cock and stuck to your pussy lips, falling and collecting all over your thighs and pittering quietly onto the floor below you both.

now with your face laying in a tiny puddle of red, harry lifted your head up by the hair at the nape of your neck. it didn’t sting, everything felt numb and tingly.

he brought his hand up to wipe your mouth and cheek, black inkiness crawling up his neck and face before consuming him yet again. you really needed peter to find you.

[hardestgrove]

THE MUNGROVE FILES: ELRIC/LOTR

Fantasy as a Means of Examining the Dynamic Between Billy and Eddie Or Why I Think You Should All Read Elric and Associate It With Billy

This is another unhinged essay from me and I will be doing a lot here, arguably the most, certainly too much. But fuck it it’s 2008 and I’m writing a shipping manifesto bc tbh I think LJ had it right and long ass metas are fun. In this essay I will be talking about why I think Billy would be a fan of the Elric Saga, how this works thematically with Eddie and why I think that the difference in which series mirror their character cores enhances the dynamic.

For starters, Elric of Melniboné — what even is that?

The Elric Saga is a series of about 7 books written by the English author Michael Moorcock from the 60s to 00s, the majority being written in the 60s-80s. They were printed in magazines and then novellas and then compiled into larger books so it can get a little confusing when you looking for information about them. The Elric Saga is a seminal piece of dark pulp fantasy that has been just as much of a foundational piece of western fantasy media as The Lord of The Rings if not as well known by the masses. It’s been referenced by countless bands including Blue Öyster Cult, given Edward Elric of Full Metal Alchemist and White Wolf Publishing their names, been one of the foundations of Dungeons and Dragons entire creation and is the inspiration for the Targaryens and Valyria in George R. R. Martin’s series A Song of Ice and Fire — just to name a few places where Elric has had an effect.

(Also the Eldar from Warhammer 40k are LITERALLY the Melniboneans. Almost to a T.)

The story of the series follows Elric of Melniboné, a sickly albino sorcerer king of a decadent and corrupt empire still clinging to it’s glory from when it ruled most of their world. Elric at first determined to somehow do something about their slow decline, not just in power but in humanity, exiles himself and sets out to travel the Young Kingdoms of the humans to learn more than he could from books and study. Because of Elric's introspective self-loathing and hatred of Melnibonéan traditions, his subjects find him odd and unfathomable. However, his cousin Yyrkoon (next in the line of succession, as Elric has no heirs) interprets this behaviour as weakness and plots Elric's death. Complicating matters is Yyrkoon's sister Cymoril, who is deeply in love with Elric; Yyrkoon covets her, and part of his plan for usurpation is to marry Cymoril himself.

Elrics greatest aids in his quests for peace for his people, and then later only himself when he realizes there is no hope for Melniboné, are his patron and master Arioch, a Lord of Chaos and Duke of Hell and the evil eldritch blade with a mind of its own bestowed to him by Arioch, Stormbringer. The sword confers upon Elric strength, health, and fighting prowess, allowing him to do away with his dependence on drugs, but it must be fed by the souls of intelligent beings. In the end, the blade takes everyone close to Elric and eventually Elric's own soul as well. This is the most constant element of the Moorcock’s stories, that anyone who is too close to Elric for too long shares in his tragic fate by Stormbringer’s or Elric’s hand. The other is that Elric is trapped as a pawn in the cosmic war between Order and Chaos (this is where the DnD alignment chart comes from).

Elric himself is a handsome but weak and miserable man forever fighting against his own depression and despair as he feels his situation in life becomes more impossible to bear. He also has a lot of sex for someone who’s so miserable to be around which is pretty impressive. He’s a byronic anti-hero, at times really even more of an anti-villain and literally everything about him is sexy and tragic. He comes from a cycle of cruelty and is considered somewhat impure of breeding, that impurity is also likely why he still has even scraps of basic decency left compared to many of his country men who revel in atrocities. Even with him being the least terrible he’s still cruel, arrogant, prideful, spiteful and generally apathetic to life and most joys.

You see, Elric and his people are doomed. There is truly no hope for them. Thanks to an ancient deal made thousands of years ago the Melniboneans are tied to Arioch and as Arioch is a Lord of Chaos this means he is a monstrous corrupting force and the source of all the depravity bastardizing Elric’s people over the generations. Elric as their king is in many ways little more than a slave to Arioch’s wishes. While Elric as a facet of the Eternal Champion inevitably works for Balance and works with agents of Order at times, he is an agent of Chaos because the pact with Arioch which cannot be broken and Arioch is happy to bring him back to heel when he sees fit. There is no peace or happiness or safety for Elric, his god —and his sword— do not wish it so and Elric cannot fight back.

Elric became a very popular place to pull inspiration from for Hard Rock and Metal artists because of these darker themes. It’s noted that Elric’s relationship with Stormbringer is similar to an addiction. He relies on the sword to feel better/be healthier but it’s evil. It has it’s own agenda and frequently robs him of his own will or control over his own body, forcing him to cut down his own friends and loved ones. It fuels him by devouring the souls of others, damning them to a fate forever trapped inside the hell that is the sword. This dark parasitic/symbiotic relationship helped it hit home with musicians of the era.

Many people in the community consider Billy to be a secret bookworm or just more passionate about reading than you’d immediately think from seeing him. I throw in my hat for the Elric Saga being Billy’s favorite series. It’s fantasy, it’s metal, it’s got sex in it, it’s got a very handsome man absolutely going through it in conflicts he has largely no power over that get into questions of fate and self determination, all that shit. It reeks of Big Billy Energy™. You can even see parallels between his character in season 3 and Elric in what I just said about Elric and Stormbringer. Fun fact— The Eternal Champion always bears an aspect of the Black Sword as his or her weapon, though it may not always manifest as a sword (black veins anyone?).

I can see Billy finding Elric’s life and struggles much more engaging and emotionally resonant to his own than he ever could with say, The Lord of The Rings which as one of the biggest fantasy series of all time and present in this era I know many like to use when talking about what he reads. Elric is a miserable fuck, he hates himself and wants to die but he persists through everything. He curses the gods, picks himself back up, gets back into the pit and commits a few atrocities, fights a dude, saves a kingdom, accidentally kills his new best friend, saves the universe, weeps into his wine over his dead girlfriend, has sex with some lady, kills another dude—rinse, repeat. It’s honestly pretty impressive since he so clearly needs a therapist or 80.

The idea for many as to why Billy reads is for a certain amount of escapism from Neil and the abuse which I agree with. But I don’t think that LOTR has the kind of escapism Billy would resonate with because of its more optimistic and comforting tones. I don’t think that even in his escapism Billy likes to be “lied” to. He prefers stories where while it might not be the focus, the harsh realities are there. His escapism is in power fantasies, in stories set in rich and compelling worlds (which yes, LOTR also has), and in putting his pain into a character. I think many things that are baked into LOTR because of who Tolkien was don’t always sit well with Billy. Sometimes you win, but it’s a pyrrhic victory and you also kinda lose because the cycle of conflict continues. Sometimes the exiled king isn’t some stalwart dude who’s rule will fix everything with no good explanation as to why that would be, sometimes he sucks and there is no way out of the tailspin anyway. Sometimes you end up alone because of your own cruelty and selfless. Sometimes it takes the Apocalypse to finally get a chance to free yourself from your masters. Elric is as compelling as he is tragic and he’s only one facet of the Eternal Champion, a being that exists in different forms throughout the Multiverse. The Champion exists to uphold the Cosmic Balance, and could even be said to be an aspect or reflection of the Balance.

Most Champions don’t even know that they are a Champion and multiple can exist in the same place at the same time. I can see him fantasizing about being one. Billy is at his heart a protector, I can see him daydreaming about being a warrior for Balance, protecting the world from the war being Law and Chaos, and never even knowing he was. I think for Billy, who feels worthless and unwanted, the inherent fantasy of being just Built Different™ is more appealing than the “anyone can be a hero” vibes of LOTR.

With that let’s get into why The Lord of The Rings is Eddie’s favorite series and then the whole compare-y constrast-y “and that’s why they should kiss” part.

If Billy looked at Elric and said “yeah I’m about to make this dude my whole personality” then Eddie did that with Frodo. Frodo is essentially the town eccentric who was raised by his uncle, the other town eccentric. He’s intelligent and kind and no one’s idea of a hero at a glance. But he is heroic and he takes on an incredibly heavy burden because someone has to and he cares too deeply to let someone else be stuck with it, even if he wishes anyone else could have it. LOTR at it’s core is a story of hope, of unlikely friendship and heroism that stands up against time, distance and unspeakable evil. It’s a story of faith in your beliefs and your friends. It talks about surviving through harrowing events and the darkest times and how love and friendship can do so much to help you continue on against the odds.

It feels like a no brainer why all of that would appeal to Eddie. Unlike Billy, Eddie has a loving uncle and has managed to build a support system. His life is by no means perfect but he’s certainly doing better than Billy is. Eddie prefers the story where good inevitably triumphs over evil in a pretty clear cut way because that’s what he feels is right. It’s his escapism. Frodo’s struggle hits him emotionally and the plot itself is likely part of the foundation of his belief system. When asked to go with the party he says they’re asking him to walk into Mordor which yeah, fucking stupid, was stupid in LOTR too. But it was also the only option and the only right/good thing to do. Even if they didn’t succeed they would have at least tried. So of course Eddie goes too.

“Man was not born to a world of justice. But he can create such a world!”                 ― Michael Moorcock, Stormbringer

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”                  ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

Their choices in favorite media are basically symbols of their philosophies, beliefs and aesthetics. Elric is one man’s quest to find his place in the world and failing that, making a new world. Of overcoming endless adversity in a harsh uncaring universe. It’s got all the aesthetics you think of when talking about 60s-70s pulp fantasy— scantily clad ladies, handsome sword boys, crazy shit, totally unpronounceable words, weird architecture etc. LOTR is the story of a group of people working together to end a war and save their world. They have total faith in each other and their friendship, love and humility is in the end what helps them win. It’s aesthetics are more classic because well— it fucking codified the classical fantasy genre look. Also like fucking 8 million poems and songs everywhere constantly.

Billy does not take pride in his softness, he takes pride in his resilience, in his anger. Eddie takes pride his creativity and his care for others and his kindness. He talks about how he saw the boys alone in the cafeteria and went out of his way to take them under his wing and he runs a whole club built on collaborative creativity. Billy has worked alone his whole life to find ways to deny Neil’s shrinking of him. He plants his feet when he’s hit and refuses to be someone you forget. He refutes a universe that would walk by his existence, he will not be denied his space. He’s miserable and arrogant like Elric— Elric who only wants to be at peace. Eddie has found is little niche and he’s content in it, but when pressed he will stand up to defend it even if he’s scared. Because it’s the right thing to do, because he cares, because he couldn’t bear putting someone else in danger just so he’d be safe. He’s adventurous and loving like Frodo— Frodo who saved the shire for everyone, but not for himself.

Billy and Eddie are complimentary forces. Their differences create a conversation between them which can lead to growth and change and their similarities ensure it happens on even footing. They’re both poor, from dysfunctional families with bad dads, they both love metal, they’re both unlike the people around them. Billy can say the world is shit and Eddie can say “is it really?” and a dialogue can be opened that gets them both thinking. Billy ensures Eddie’s kindness isn’t abused, that the Shire remains unscoured. Eddie gives Billy the affection he craves and gives him the space he needs to feel peace. Because Billy is a protector and Eddie is a carer. Eddie shows on multiple occasions his emotional sensitivity and compassion. Like Elric traveling the Young Kingdoms, most people look at Billy and see a threat, a villain, because of what he is (a Melnibonean/an abuse victim with unhealthy mechanisms). Like Frodo, Eddie has the big heart and open mindedness to show pity and compassion even to Gollum who would’ve absolutely loved to bash his head in with a rock. And that kindness is what allows what’s left of Gollum’s humanity to shine through as Sméagol, the man he used to be.

I’m losing mental steam here because I’ve been at this Billy/Elric shit all day but I feel like this quote from Moonglum, another aspect of the Eternal Champion, kinda says what I’m getting at here.

“He had never understood his friendship with the albino. It had always been a peculiar mixture of reserve and affection, a fine balance which both men were careful to maintain, even in situations of this kind.

Elric, since his passion for Cymoril had resulted in her death and the destruction of the city he loved, had at all times feared bestowing any tender emotion on those he fell in with.

He had run away from Shaarilla of the Dancing Mist, who had loved him dearly. He had fled from Queen Yishana of Jharkor, who had offered him her kingdom to rule, in spite of her subjects’ hatred of him. He disdained most company save Moonglum’s, and Moonglum, too, became quickly bored by anyone other than the crimson-eyed Prince of Imrryr. Moonglum would die for Elric and he knew that Elric would risk any danger to save his friend. But was not this an unhealthy relationship? Would it not be better if they went their different ways? He could not bear the thought. It was as if they were part of the same entity different aspects of the character of the same man.

He could not understand why he should feel this. And he guessed that, if Elric had ever considered the question, the Melnibonean would be equally hard put to find an answer.”                   —The Vanishing Tower by Michael Moorcock

[gonegrove]

THE MUNGROVE FILES: ELRIC/LOTR

Fantasy as a Means of Examining the Dynamic Between Billy and Eddie Or Why I Think You Should All Read Elric and Associate It With Billy

This is another unhinged essay from me and I will be doing a lot here, arguably the most, certainly too much. But fuck it it’s 2008 and I’m writing a shipping manifesto bc tbh I think LJ had it right and long ass metas are fun. In this essay I will be talking about why I think Billy would be a fan of the Elric Saga, how this works thematically with Eddie and why I think that the difference in which series mirror their character cores enhances the dynamic.

For starters, Elric of Melniboné — what even is that?

The Elric Saga is a series of about 7 books written by the English author Michael Moorcock from the 60s to 00s, the majority being written in the 60s-80s. They were printed in magazines and then novellas and then compiled into larger books so it can get a little confusing when you looking for information about them. The Elric Saga is a seminal piece of dark pulp fantasy that has been just as much of a foundational piece of western fantasy media as The Lord of The Rings if not as well known by the masses. It’s been referenced by countless bands including Blue Öyster Cult, given Edward Elric of Full Metal Alchemist and White Wolf Publishing their names, been one of the foundations of Dungeons and Dragons entire creation and is the inspiration for the Targaryens and Valyria in George R. R. Martin’s series A Song of Ice and Fire — just to name a few places where Elric has had an effect.

(Also the Eldar from Warhammer 40k are LITERALLY the Melniboneans. Almost to a T.)

The story of the series follows Elric of Melniboné, a sickly albino sorcerer king of a decadent and corrupt empire still clinging to it’s glory from when it ruled most of their world. Elric at first determined to somehow do something about their slow decline, not just in power but in humanity, exiles himself and sets out to travel the Young Kingdoms of the humans to learn more than he could from books and study. Because of Elric’s introspective self-loathing and hatred of Melnibonéan traditions, his subjects find him odd and unfathomable. However, his cousin Yyrkoon (next in the line of succession, as Elric has no heirs) interprets this behaviour as weakness and plots Elric’s death. Complicating matters is Yyrkoon’s sister Cymoril, who is deeply in love with Elric; Yyrkoon covets her, and part of his plan for usurpation is to marry Cymoril himself.

Elrics greatest aids in his quests for peace for his people, and then later only himself when he realizes there is no hope for Melniboné, are his patron and master Arioch, a Lord of Chaos and Duke of Hell and the evil eldritch blade with a mind of its own bestowed to him by Arioch, Stormbringer. The sword confers upon Elric strength, health, and fighting prowess, allowing him to do away with his dependence on drugs, but it must be fed by the souls of intelligent beings. In the end, the blade takes everyone close to Elric and eventually Elric’s own soul as well. This is the most constant element of the Moorcock’s stories, that anyone who is too close to Elric for too long shares in his tragic fate by Stormbringer’s or Elric’s hand. The other is that Elric is trapped as a pawn in the cosmic war between Order and Chaos (this is where the DnD alignment chart comes from).

Elric himself is a handsome but weak and miserable man forever fighting against his own depression and despair as he feels his situation in life becomes more impossible to bear. He also has a lot of sex for someone who’s so miserable to be around which is pretty impressive. He’s a byronic anti-hero, at times really even more of an anti-villain and literally everything about him is sexy and tragic. He comes from a cycle of cruelty and is considered somewhat impure of breeding, that impurity is also likely why he still has even scraps of basic decency left compared to many of his country men who revel in atrocities. Even with him being the least terrible he’s still cruel, arrogant, prideful, spiteful and generally apathetic to life and most joys.

You see, Elric and his people are doomed. There is truly no hope for them. Thanks to an ancient deal made thousands of years ago the Melniboneans are tied to Arioch and as Arioch is a Lord of Chaos this means he is a monstrous corrupting force and the source of all the depravity bastardizing Elric’s people over the generations. Elric as their king is in many ways little more than a slave to Arioch’s wishes. While Elric as a facet of the Eternal Champion inevitably works for Balance and works with agents of Order at times, he is an agent of Chaos because the pact with Arioch which cannot be broken and Arioch is happy to bring him back to heel when he sees fit. There is no peace or happiness or safety for Elric, his god —and his sword— do not wish it so and Elric cannot fight back.

Elric became a very popular place to pull inspiration from for Hard Rock and Metal artists because of these darker themes. It’s noted that Elric’s relationship with Stormbringer is similar to an addiction. He relies on the sword to feel better/be healthier but it’s evil. It has it’s own agenda and frequently robs him of his own will or control over his own body, forcing him to cut down his own friends and loved ones. It fuels him by devouring the souls of others, damning them to a fate forever trapped inside the hell that is the sword. This dark parasitic/symbiotic relationship helped it hit home with musicians of the era.

Many people in the community consider Billy to be a secret bookworm or just more passionate about reading than you’d immediately think from seeing him. I throw in my hat for the Elric Saga being Billy’s favorite series. It’s fantasy, it’s metal, it’s got sex in it, it’s got a very handsome man absolutely going through it in conflicts he has largely no power over that get into questions of fate and self determination, all that shit. It reeks of Big Billy Energy™. You can even see parallels between his character in season 3 and Elric in what I just said about Elric and Stormbringer. Fun fact— The Eternal Champion always bears an aspect of the Black Sword as his or her weapon, though it may not always manifest as a sword (black veins anyone?).

I can see Billy finding Elric’s life and struggles much more engaging and emotionally resonant to his own than he ever could with say, The Lord of The Rings which as one of the biggest fantasy series of all time and present in this era I know many like to use when talking about what he reads. Elric is a miserable fuck, he hates himself and wants to die but he persists through everything. He curses the gods, picks himself back up, gets back into the pit and commits a few atrocities, fights a dude, saves a kingdom, accidentally kills his new best friend, saves the universe, weeps into his wine over his dead girlfriend, has sex with some lady, kills another dude—rinse, repeat. It’s honestly pretty impressive since he so clearly needs a therapist or 80.

The idea for many as to why Billy reads is for a certain amount of escapism from Neil and the abuse which I agree with. But I don’t think that LOTR has the kind of escapism Billy would resonate with because of its more optimistic and comforting tones. I don’t think that even in his escapism Billy likes to be “lied” to. He prefers stories where while it might not be the focus, the harsh realities are there. His escapism is in power fantasies, in stories set in rich and compelling worlds (which yes, LOTR also has), and in putting his pain into a character. I think many things that are baked into LOTR because of who Tolkien was don’t always sit well with Billy. Sometimes you win, but it’s a pyrrhic victory and you also kinda lose because the cycle of conflict continues. Sometimes the exiled king isn’t some stalwart dude who’s rule will fix everything with no good explanation as to why that would be, sometimes he sucks and there is no way out of the tailspin anyway. Sometimes you end up alone because of your own cruelty and selfless. Sometimes it takes the Apocalypse to finally get a chance to free yourself from your masters. Elric is as compelling as he is tragic and he’s only one facet of the Eternal Champion, a being that exists in different forms throughout the Multiverse. The Champion exists to uphold the Cosmic Balance, and could even be said to be an aspect or reflection of the Balance.

Most Champions don’t even know that they are a Champion and multiple can exist in the same place at the same time. I can see him fantasizing about being one. Billy is at his heart a protector, I can see him daydreaming about being a warrior for Balance, protecting the world from the war being Law and Chaos, and never even knowing he was. I think for Billy, who feels worthless and unwanted, the inherent fantasy of being just Built Different™ is more appealing than the “anyone can be a hero” vibes of LOTR.

With that let’s get into why The Lord of The Rings is Eddie’s favorite series and then the whole compare-y constrast-y “and that’s why they should kiss” part.

If Billy looked at Elric and said “yeah I’m about to make this dude my whole personality” then Eddie did that with Frodo. Frodo is essentially the town eccentric who was raised by his uncle, the other town eccentric. He’s intelligent and kind and no one’s idea of a hero at a glance. But he is heroic and he takes on an incredibly heavy burden because someone has to and he cares too deeply to let someone else be stuck with it, even if he wishes anyone else could have it. LOTR at it’s core is a story of hope, of unlikely friendship and heroism that stands up against time, distance and unspeakable evil. It’s a story of faith in your beliefs and your friends. It talks about surviving through harrowing events and the darkest times and how love and friendship can do so much to help you continue on against the odds.

It feels like a no brainer why all of that would appeal to Eddie. Unlike Billy, Eddie has a loving uncle and has managed to build a support system. His life is by no means perfect but he’s certainly doing better than Billy is. Eddie prefers the story where good inevitably triumphs over evil in a pretty clear cut way because that’s what he feels is right. It’s his escapism. Frodo’s struggle hits him emotionally and the plot itself is likely part of the foundation of his belief system. When asked to go with the party he says they’re asking him to walk into Mordor which yeah, fucking stupid, was stupid in LOTR too. But it was also the only option and the only right/good thing to do. Even if they didn’t succeed they would have at least tried. So of course Eddie goes too.

“Man was not born to a world of justice. But he can create such a world!”                ― Michael Moorcock, Stormbringer

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”                 ― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers

Their choices in favorite media are basically symbols of their philosophies, beliefs and aesthetics. Elric is one man’s quest to find his place in the world and failing that, making a new world. Of overcoming endless adversity in a harsh uncaring universe. It’s got all the aesthetics you think of when talking about 60s-70s pulp fantasy— scantily clad ladies, handsome sword boys, crazy shit, totally unpronounceable words, weird architecture etc. LOTR is the story of a group of people working together to end a war and save their world. They have total faith in each other and their friendship, love and humility is in the end what helps them win. It’s aesthetics are more classic because well— it fucking codified the classical fantasy genre look. Also like fucking 8 million poems and songs everywhere constantly.

Billy does not take pride in his softness, he takes pride in his resilience, in his anger. Eddie takes pride his creativity and his care for others and his kindness. He talks about how he saw the boys alone in the cafeteria and went out of his way to take them under his wing and he runs a whole club built on collaborative creativity. Billy has worked alone his whole life to find ways to deny Neil’s shrinking of him. He plants his feet when he’s hit and refuses to be someone you forget. He refutes a universe that would walk by his existence, he will not be denied his space. He’s miserable and arrogant like Elric— Elric who only wants to be at peace. Eddie has found is little niche and he’s content in it, but when pressed he will stand up to defend it even if he’s scared. Because it’s the right thing to do, because he cares, because he couldn’t bear putting someone else in danger just so he’d be safe. He’s adventurous and loving like Frodo— Frodo who saved the shire for everyone, but not for himself.

Billy and Eddie are complimentary forces. Their differences create a conversation between them which can lead to growth and change and their similarities ensure it happens on even footing. They’re both poor, from dysfunctional families with bad dads, they both love metal, they’re both unlike the people around them. Billy can say the world is shit and Eddie can say “is it really?” and a dialogue can be opened that gets them both thinking. Billy ensures Eddie’s kindness isn’t abused, that the Shire remains unscoured. Eddie gives Billy the affection he craves and gives him the space he needs to feel peace. Because Billy is a protector and Eddie is a carer. Eddie shows on multiple occasions his emotional sensitivity and compassion. Like Elric traveling the Young Kingdoms, most people look at Billy and see a threat, a villain, because of what he is (a Melnibonean/an abuse victim with unhealthy mechanisms). Like Frodo, Eddie has the big heart and open mindedness to show pity and compassion even to Gollum who would’ve absolutely loved to bash his head in with a rock. And that kindness is what allows what’s left of Gollum’s humanity to shine through as Sméagol, the man he used to be.  

I’m losing mental steam here because I’ve been at this Billy/Elric shit all day but I feel like this quote from Moonglum, another aspect of the Eternal Champion, kinda says what I’m getting at here.

“He had never understood his friendship with the albino. It had always been a peculiar mixture of reserve and affection, a fine balance which both men were careful to maintain, even in situations of this kind.

 Elric, since his passion for Cymoril had resulted in her death and the destruction of the city he loved, had at all times feared bestowing any tender emotion on those he fell in with.

He had run away from Shaarilla of the Dancing Mist, who had loved him dearly. He had fled from Queen Yishana of Jharkor, who had offered him her kingdom to rule, in spite of her subjects’ hatred of him. He disdained most company save Moonglum’s, and Moonglum, too, became quickly bored by anyone other than the crimson-eyed Prince of Imrryr. Moonglum would die for Elric and he knew that Elric would risk any danger to save his friend. But was not this an unhealthy relationship? Would it not be better if they went their different ways? He could not bear the thought. It was as if they were part of the same entity different aspects of the character of the same man.

 He could not understand why he should feel this. And he guessed that, if Elric had ever considered the question, the Melnibonean would be equally hard put to find an answer.”                  —The Vanishing Tower by Michael Moorcock

[7demonhoes]

The devildom and hell are not the same part 2

This may have taken forever but I’m actually super proud of it. If you’re interested, I put a link to part 1 below. Also I take requests!!

Description: After giving into curiosity, MC has to deal with the consequences. They couldn’t leave the brothers be, not when they were clearly hiding something from their human. And now, with the demon’s secrets revealed, MC faces a dilemma that could cause them to lose the demon brothers forever. 

Word count: 5,191

Warnings:  Angst, body horror, mention of religion/hell. The demons act like actual demons.

Part 1

I kneel on the edge of the cavern that leads to the pits of Hell, throat raw from my terrified wail. Seven demons stare down at me, the sky beyond them tinged a cloudy red that resembles the blood being spilt far below.

The one that used to be Satan crouches down, moving as if to offer me a hand. It begins the motion. I stare at the arm; veins bulge from skin, its color a faint, sickly green. The hand reaching out towards me is huge, black claws the size of my fingers sharpened to a point, gore under the nails.

My eyes travel past the arm, looking towards the beast’s bare chest. Skin is stretched over muscle, pulled so tightly that it appears as if it will tear and bleed if it is stretched too far. A long, rigid tail snakes around the demon’s leg, swishing excitedly against a pair of bent knees. The tail travels up the entire length of the monster’s back, connecting to two obsidian horns at either side of the monster’s head.

The creature’s facial features are warped beyond recognition into a look of rage. Tight skin stretches over a small nose, dry lips forming a silent howl of anger. The mouth is horrible, its short, sharp teeth gleaming against pale green skin. Rows of teeth line the monster’s throat, reaching far back into the cavernous mouth.

Its eyes are blue-green, and they beg me for forgiveness. The beast whispers my name in Satan’s voice, far too soft to be coming from a hole filled with so many teeth.

“No,” I whisper, because it’s the only thing I can think.

“Why did you come?” The thing pretending to be Levi unhinges its jaw to speak, a forked tongue drooping from its mouth and slithering towards me.

“You’re so afraid,” another voice buzzes, “You’re making me even hungrier.”

“You betrayed us.” Mammon’s voice sounds pained. I can’t bring myself to look in the voice’s direction. When I looked at the figure before, I caught a glimpse of melted gold and burnt skin. “We loved you, you know.”

I could hear the meaning in those words. But not anymore. “Please,” I beg, because it’s the only thing I can do.

“Do not speak like them,” Lucifer rumbles, talons gesturing dismissively towards the Pit.

I stare at the ground, concentrating on the dirt sifting through my clenched fingers. I can’t think while I stare at them. The screams of the tortured souls get louder if I look into their eyes.

I remember the forcefield. I slowly crawl backwards. I need to get away from this place. I need to get away from-

A frail, thin hand with fine black hair rests on my own. If I wasn’t so afraid, I think I would reel back in disgust. “Running away?” Belgaphor whispers.

"I-" my voice breaks as the hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me forward. I stumble to my feet, barreling into hard muscle.

"Honey," Asmosdeus's sweet voice sounds sickly and thick. "You should have done what you were told."

I shiver against him, my arms wrapped around my chest. I stare down at his feet. A clawed hand gently touches the bottom of my chin.

"Don't," I whisper.

The demon ignores my request, forcing my eyes to travel up towards its face. Small, writhing bodies are pressed against the monster's skin, their nude forms stroking the demon.

When I look at the horror's face, the animal that stole Asmo's voice smiles at me. Its mouth splits open at the middle of the bottom lip, revealing a barbed tongue and curved canines.

Its hooded eyes reveal no emotion. Red makeup swirls around the demon's face, highlighting its elegant features. Four giant wings wrap around me, impossibly smooth to the touch.

I watch as it presses a clawed finger to its lips. "I'm sorry, baby," it coos, "but it appears that we have some things to discuss with you."

"...What?" I ask, attempting to reel backwards as the beast reaches for me. The demon places his finger on my tongue before pulling me in an embrace.

I feel a hand on the back of my head, softly stroking my hair. "Sleep," Belgaphore commands.

My vision blurs, my body starting to feel warm and calm. I find it impossible to move, but I'm too tired to care.

As my vision grows black, I hear the beating of wings and feel the soft caress of hot air against my skin.

I wake up in a dim room. Candlelight flickers across the stone walls and floor. Harsh shadow is cast across the other side of the room, so thick that I can't make out what might be lurking inside. Thankfully, I can no longer hear the screams of the damned.

I try to move my arm. To my horror, it pulls against a metal cuff. I look down to realize that I'm strapped to a metal chair by my wrists and ankles. I stiffen, looking wildly at my surroundings. I have to get out of here. What are they going to do to me? Are they going to keep me in Hell, now that I've learned what they are?

I can't help myself. I let out a whimper. I immediately hear rustling from the other half of the room. Glowing, red eyes stare at me from the darkness.

"Human," Lucifer's voice is rough. "I told you this was not information to be privy of." he steps into the candlelight, and I struggle against the chains. "And yet," he says, staring down at me with hunger, "I should have known that you would have meddled either way."

I stare at the figure in front of me. Its-his?- skin moves like ruffling feathers, never standing still. Hands and feet are replaced with the talons of a bird, the skin dry and black. The wings on the creature's back are even larger and more impressive than usual, crumpled slightly so they can fit in the cramped room. Black feathers shine an iridescent purple whenever candlelight flickers across them. Feathers travel from the wings, up the shoulders, and climb towards the demon's face, stopping at the jawline.

Lucifer's facial features are more or less the same. His cheekbones are sharper, his eyes brighter, and his lips are a shiny black. When the demon speaks, I see neat rows of fangs.

"Are you afraid?" The demon asks.

I remember when he almost attacked me in the common room. "Do you want me to be?"

Lucifer takes another step forward and crouches down, his face inches from mine. When I look into his eyes, I see the faces of those he has tortured. "Yes," he whispers.

I feel my heartbeat in my throat. "Why?" My voice is hoarse.

"It is my nature. And it is yours to be terrified of me." He gestures towards his body. "Especially when I look like this."

"Lucifer," I can't look into his eyes anymore. I stare at my lap, blinking away tears. "What is going to happen to me?"

"We will answer your questions. All of them."

"And then?"

He swallows. I glance at him to see his eyes on me. They're soft; if I look past the souls within them, I can see his sadness. "And then we will make you forget."

"Hell?" I guess that wouldn't be so bad. If I just woke up back in the House of Lamentation without any idea of what happened, it would probably be for the-

"No," Lucifer cuts off my thoughts. "You will forget your time in the Devildom."

If I wasn't sitting down, I think I would fall over. "Please don't." I can't forget this place. I can't forget them.

"It has already been decided." Lucifer stands and heads towards the shadows. "I will come back when it is time to say goodbye." He turns to look at me, opens his mouth, closes it with a shake of the head, and drifts away.

I shudder in a mixture of relief and despair when I no longer feel his presence. This place is horrible. I need to get out of here. But what would that do? They would find me, and they would bring me back.

And then they would say goodbye.

Maybe it's for the best. After everything I've seen… If I don't forget, what would become of my sanity? If I look at the demons in their human forms, will I ever be able to see them as the men I loved again?

I stare at the floor, feeling a coil tighten around my heart. Are the brothers truly that different? They've been coming to this place for more time than I can fathom.

And yet, those are human souls they are torturing. Do they ever look at me and think about hurting me? How much do they have to fight against their instincts to not attack me while I sleep?

But they never have. Does that knowledge by itself allow me to trust them?

It's not like I have a choice. They're taking away my memories of this place no matter what I do.

Someone coughs. I look up to see Beelzebub and Belgaphore. They stand huddled in shadow, looking at anything but me.

I eye them wearily, trying not to look away. Belphie looks even more exhausted than usual, the bags lining his eyes a deep shade of gray. His skin is covered in fine hair and rot, maggots crawling around his skin. Beel glances at the grubs, his stomach growling loudly.

"Does it hurt?" I ask.

Belphie raises an eyebrow. "Does what hurt?" His voice sounds sickly. It makes me want to close my eyes and never open them again.

"Your skin."

He shrugs. "You get used to the pain."

I stare at Beel. His eyes look like those of a fly's, each bulb moving in multiple directions. His mouth is half open, drool spilling from his lips. Giant teeth poke holes into his skin, the edges of the white points soaked in blood. His wings buzz each time they quiver.

"We're here to answer some questions." Beel says, "If you want to know anything."

I pause, thinking. It would be a waste to not ask questions, even though the action seems pointless when I know that I won't remember their answers. Still, the longer I drag this out…

Am I really okay with saying goodbye?

"Why do you look like that?" I start, my stomach rolling.

"We naturally shift into our True Forms when in Hell," Beelzebub says. "It's hard to change if we're just in the Devildom, unless we're incredibly angry or we haven't…. come here in a while. The only person who can shift whenever they want is Diavolo"

I swallow, gripping against the chair. "Those people," I whisper hoarsely, "Do they deserve it?"

"People are brought here for different reasons. The book humans use for their religion has some truth in it, some lies."

"For example?"

Belphie sighs. "Killing for safety or self defense doesn't get you thrown down here, but destroying lives for your own well-being does. People never come here based on their sexuality or gender. Stuff like that."

"What about… people who make pacts?"

"Only if you offer your soul. And even those humans don't necessarily end up in Hell."

I frown, thinking. "What will happen to my pacts with you? Once I forget?"

Beel winces. "They won't disappear, but since you won't remember how to use them, the marks will never flare up and show themselves."

A desperate, sad fear twists in my gut. "I don't want to forget you." My voice breaks as I speak, my eyesight becoming blurry.

One of the twins growls. I look up to see Belphie right above me, his lips grinding in an angry snarl. "This is your fault," he rumbles. "If you never asked questions, if you never tracked us…" He kneels down, placing his head on my knees. "Were we that untrustworthy? Was it me?"

"Belphie," I sigh, trying to reach out to him despite the chains. "I was selfish. It was all my fault."

"Can't you stay here instead? What if you just never left? You could live here, with us, and I wouldn't have to-"

Beel walks over and rests a hand on Belphie's head. "Humans can't stay here for their entire lives. It's too dangerous." Beel sighs, walking behind my chair to wrap his arms around me. He's careful to hide his claws. "But it doesn't mean we can't be sad."

My lip quivers. I'm about to speak when Belphie cuts me off. "I can't do this. I can't look at you and know that in a few hours you wouldn't recognize me. I'll- I'll see you later." He gets up, grabs Beel, and drags him out of the room. Before he's engulfed in shadow, Beel reaches out for me.

I desperately try to reach back, but my wrists clang at their restraints.  

I try to fight against the sadness in my gut. What have I done? I can't lose them. Not after all this time.

Before I can second guess myself, I concentrate, bringing the images of Leviathan and Mammon into my head. I imagine all of their forms and desperately force myself to think of each one as the same person.

I close my eyes. "Avatars of Greed and Envy," I speak, feeling the sigils against my palms and over the back of my neck tingle as they flare, "I summon thee as my guides. Be my strength." The sigils burn as I call out to the demons, feeling a familiar pull against my chest. I concentrate on that pull and imagine myself reeling it in.

The ground beneath my feet rumbles. I hear a whoosh and a flutter of wings. When I open my eyes, I find Levi and Mammon staring at me worriedly.

"Why did you summon us?" Mammon asks.

I smile sadly. "I still have questions. And I wanted to do it one last time."

Mammon winces, but doesn't speak. He tries to make him look as small as possible as I study him.

The Avatar of Greed is an impressive, terrifying sight. His blue eyes shine against his dark skin. His body and horns are adorned with jewels, the edges of the golden pieces melting into his skin. His hands are covered in melted gold, his fingers long and slender and decorated with beautiful rings. Black feathers cover parts of his chest and groin, the edge of them dipped in gold.

Burned skin presses against the gold, painful-looking blisters contrasting against the beautiful color of his skin. If Mammon is in pain, he shows no signs of it.

The tips of his bat-like wings are the same. One side of his wings brushes against the stone wall and leaves behind a smooth cut.

I turn my eyes towards Levi, and he shudders. "Don't look at me," he hisses, "I can't let you see me like this."

"Levi," I whisper, "Can you undo my restraints?"

"Won't you run?"

I shake my head. "I won't run away from any of you, ever. I promise." I put power into the words, feeling each of the seven sigils flare. The brothers in front of me gasp as they feel the power of the pacts within them.

Levi steps forward, gingerly reaching down to the cuffs at my ankles. When he moves to undo my wrists, he turns his head to hide his face.

His body is covered in purple scales. His arms and legs are disproportionately long compared to the rest of his body. His claws aren't as long as some of his brother's, but his fangs are the most impressive.

His mouth is huge, his jaw hanging open each time he speaks. Fangs dipped in poison reach towards his bottom lip, a forked tongue occasionally tasting the air. His eyes resemble a snake's, his extra eyelids blinking as he shies away.

Once he's released me from my restraints I rub at my wrists. I slowly stand up, barely coming up to Levi's chest. "Did you get taller?"

"We all do, in this form." He steps away from me.

"It's okay," I say. "Please don't hide. I want to be brave, so that your last memory of me is a good one."

I can tell how much they care through their words and actions. I could never hate them for what they are. They've shown me so much kindness and love.

I wonder if I'll know that something is missing? I've never been appreciated this much in my entire life. Will I feel a void in my heart once I wake up without these memories?

Before Levi or I can realize what I'm doing, I reach out and grab his hand. He jumps as I stroke his claws with a finger, his scales surprisingly smooth. Levi barely moves as I entwine our fingers together.

"Show me," I look at Mammon. He stares where my skin touches Levi's, a mixture of hopefulness and need plastered on his face. "I want to see all of it."  

He stiffens, realizing what I'm asking. "No."

"Please," I take another step closer to Levi. I don't even think he's breathing. "I want to truly accept you all. I want you to know that I understand why you kept this from me, and that even once I forget you that I will never stop loving you."

He opens his mouth, closes it, and then shakily wipes at his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He nods before gesturing towards the shadows. Levi and I follow him, still holding hands.

I'm completely blind for a few seconds as we walk through the murky black. As the shadows around me dissipate, the sound of tormented souls reach my ears once more.

We stand on the other side of the pit. I look behind me to see a wall of shadow climbing towards the sky. "That wasn't there before," I mutter.

"Welcome to Hell." Mammon shrugs.

"What's it like?"

"There's eight layers." Levi points down to the pit. I glance at it, trying to put on a brave face. "Each one of us controls a layer, but the lesser demons are the ones who do most of the work. We go once a week or so to quell some of our more… natural instincts."

"Eight layers? But there's seven of you."

"The first layer is the pathway to the layer each soul will spend eternity in. The people you see now are those who have just died."

"And every demon needs to come here."

"Yes," Levi nods. "For some, it's almost like a job. Demons who have roles at other places in the Devildom only come here occasionally."

I catch Mammon's apprehensive stare. He swallows. "Aren't you afraid?"

I look down at the black dirt. "Yes. But the fear of Hell seems unimportant when I am so much more afraid of using all of you."

Levi sucks in a breath. "I can't believe you." He looks down at himself. "How could you see me like this and not be disgusted?"

"It's hard." I won't lie to them-- it feels like my instincts are screaming at me to run and hide. "But I know that you would never hurt me."

"But we have!" Levi shudders, "Don't you remember? We have never been fully able to control ourselves!" He takes his hand from my grasp, instead clenching them into fists. "Every time," he growls, "Every time we have ever hurt you it was because we had procrastinated coming here. And we never learned our lesson."

He's shaking, his eyes wide. "And now, you're gone. The first person we've truly cared about and you're being taken away-"

I crash into him, arms wrapping around his torso. He stiffens, hands remaining rigid at his side. The air beside me suddenly becomes hot as Mammon comes closer, coming as close to me as he can without burning me.

"I'm sorry," I sob into Levi's scales. "I'm so sorry. I love you all so much. I-I don't want to lose you."

Mammon tilts his head towards the sky and bellows, a ferocious roar emptying into the air and causing the ash beneath my feet to quake. He snarls, his feathers rippling. "Fuck this," he snaps. "Fuck Hell, fuck the rules. I'm not losing you." His blue eyes meet mine, flames burning within. "We're not showing you Hell. We're getting ya out of this place."

Levi bristles. "But where can we take them?"

I gasp. "Purgatory Hall. Solomon has a trap there. I'll be stuck in a forcefield, and only he can get me out. We'll be able to negotiate."

Mammon nods. "Let's go." He takes to the sky, giant wings flapping impressively.

Levi effortlessly picks me up, cradling me gently against his chest. "Hold on," he says. I tighten my grip around him as he takes off at an impossibly fast speed, the world blurring around me as he sprints around the Pitt and towards the forcefield back to the Devildom.

As we pass through the forcefield, he doesn't slow even as he shrinks in size and his scales recede. He continues to run as he returns to his normal demon form, his face a mask of concentration.

Mammon continues to fly above us, keeping pace with Levi-

A giant, terrifying figure in the sky flies toward him. They both go toppling to the ground in a flurry of wings and roars.

"Shit!" Levi yells, forcing himself to go faster.

"What was that?" I have to scream to hear my voice over the howling wind.

"Diavolo! He must know we're trying to help you!"

I swallow down a thick ball of anxiety. He wanted to kill Belphie for not following his orders when it came to the exchange program; what will he do to Mammon for letting me remember Hell?

Once we reach Purgatory Hall, Levi doesn't slow as we reach the door. He tightens his hold around me as he rams into the door with his shoulder. The wood splinters and falls beneath his weight.

Something screams behind us. Levi swears, heading towards Solomon's room. Just as we reach the hallway, the windows lining the walls all shatter at once.

Levi curls around me and jumps, hitting the ground and rolling as glass embeds itself into his skin. He sucks in a pained breath, releasing me and throwing me towards Solomon's door.

I scramble to my hands and knees and take a few steps forward before looking back. Levi's already standing, his arms spread wide to leave as little of an opening to reach me as possible.

And beyond him…. Is Diavolo in his True Form. He stands at a staggering seven feet, each limb defined with bulging muscle. His wings are so large that the edges poke past the broken windows, the stiff leather riddled with glass. His arms lay tensely at his sides, claws as big as my hand covered in a mixture of blood and strips of dark skin.

I shudder, thinking of Mammon and asking every god I know to let him be okay.

Diavolo snarls, his mouth stretching from ear to ear. A long, pointed tongue is covered with blood, red drool spilling from his horrible mouth. His eyes glow against black eye sockets.

And his skin…. Screaming faces press themselves against it as if trying to escape. The forms convulse against his entire body, hands reaching out and pressing against veined skin in a mixture of desperation and hopelessness.

Diavolo screams, and I cover my ears with a pained gasp as the walls around me shake. Levi steadies himself against the towering beast before him.

"Run!" Levi shouts just as Diavolo charges. I force myself to turn away and spring for Solomon's door as the sound of pained grunts and tearing echoes from behind me. I open the door and dive into the threshold of the room as something hot and wet erupts at my ankle.

I fall into the room and whirl around, staring at the open door as I lay sprawled out on the floor.

Diavolo bangs against the forcefield, his face a mask of rage. I cower beneath him, a small whimper bubbling from my throat.

I look past his hulking form to see Levi crumpled against a wall, his body covered in deep lacerations. I stare at him in shock, thinking the worst.

He coughs, opening an eye to look at me. He smiles when he sees me in Solomon's room before closing his eyes. His chest rises and falls.

I force myself to look at my ankle. The skin is shredded in three different places. I wince, just now feeling the pain as I stare at the wound. I quickly rip a part of my shirt and tie it around my ankle, gritting my teeth through the sharp needles of hurt.

A flurry of wings takes my attention away from my useless ankle. Diavolo turns as the rest of the demon brothers enter the hallway through the shattered windows.

Lucifer carries a bloodied heap in his arms. His eyes glow with an anger so intense I find myself scooting away despite the forcefield between us. He gently sets Mammon down next to Levi, his cold eyes softening as he looks at his brothers.

His eyes drift towards me, then towards my bandaged ankle. He glances at Diavolo's bloodied claws, then looks back at his unconcioUs brothers.

He faces Diavolo. His skin ripples, and with a sudden cry of rage he shifts into his True Form, his eyes almost level with Diavolo's.

A rumbling voice sounds from Diavolo's throat, more growls than words, "How dare you threaten me!"

Lucifer bares his teeth. "You laid a hand on my brothers. You laid a hand on my human."

"They broke the rules! They must face the consequences." Diavolo steps forward threateningly, but Lucifer holds his ground. "Bring Solomon here at once to break the spell."

"No." Lucifer shakes his head defiantly. "You will not harm anyone else."

Satan puts a hand on his shoulder. His skin stretches and pulls as he changes as well. Each brother steps closer to Lucifer, their eyes ablaze as they stand before their king. To protect their brothers.

To protect me.

I can't leave them.

"You cannot defy me!" Diavolo roars.

"No," a cunning smile warps itself on Lucifer's face, "but they can force us." He points a claw at me.

Diavolo gasps and turns to me, smashing against the forcefield with all of us weight. I focus on the brothers instead as they wait. With a grunt of effort, I get to my feet. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

I picture the brothers in my head, bringing my favorite memories of them to my mind. I pour everything I have felt over the past few hours-- the fear, the despair, the desperation…

And the love. I imagine golden love wrapping around their bodies and mine, entwining us forever; an unbreakable bond that cannot be forgotten.

I don't have to say the words. I feel all seven pacts burning on my skin, their colors washing me in a hue of seven different colors.

I look at Mammon and Levi. "Heal," I command. Their eyes fly open, skin closing around their myriad of wounds. "Change," I tell them, and their figures warp, the beautiful monster's falling behind Lucifer.

Diavolo screams, whirling around to face the brothers. He charges, raising a clawed hand towards Lucifer.

"Protect yourselves!" I demand, "And don't let me leave you!"

Lucifer catches Diavolo's raised hand. Faster than I can blink, the brothers hold Diavolo down. He tries to get loose and tear away from them, but he's no match for the seven of them.

"This is treason." His voice is full of malice.

"There has to be another way," Lucifer pleads. "There has to be a way to ensure that they don't forget."

"It's impossible." Diavolo shakes his head. He blinks, the rage on his face turning to a look of pensiveness. "Only damned souls and demons are able to witness Hell."

Satan stiffens. "What if-"

Belgaphore gasps. "It could be possible."

Lucifer frowns. "I doubt they'd want that."

Diavolo tilts his head to the side, his eyes turning towards my direction. "I suppose it wouldn't make the exchange program a complete failure." He takes a deep breath, his body shrinking in size until he's in his human form. He crosses his arms, staring at me.

The brothers follow suit, each of them shaking off their demon forms. I watch them, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Diavolo takes a step forward. His eyes no longer hold any anger. "You have two options," he says. "Either you can forget this place and live the rest of your days as a human…"

He pauses. I try to read the brother's faces for a clue, but the only expressions on their faces are those mixed with anxiety and hope.

Diavolo continues, "...or you can live in the Devildom for the rest of eternity. As a demon."

My heart skips a beat. I could be here. Forever, with the brothers.

As a demon.

"H-how?"

"With the correct rituals, it's quite an easy process. But if you do this, you will forever be changed. The human realm will no longer belong to you." Diavolo narrows his eyes. "You are trapped. You have no other choice."

I look at Levi and Mammon, who risked their lives to get me here. Levi shrugs, understanding the meaning of my gaze. "We gave you a way out. Now it's up to you to choose."

I stare at the demons in front of me, picturing their true forms. Do I really want to leave the human world behind? Would I be prepared to give it all up?

And what about my job as a demon? I would have to do unspeakable things…

And yet… could I stand to lose what I have here? I have never felt so loved, so complete until I came here.

I close my eyes. And I feel the decision in my bones.

"I won't forget you," I say.

The brother's eyes go wide, but Diavolo simply nods. Something shuffles from the back of the room. I turn to see Solomon materialize from a corner.

"What. The. Hell." I mutter, staring at the grinning wizard.

"Sup," he replies. He shuffles to his desk, pulling out a small container. He opens it before kneeling before my injured ankle, gingerly peeling off my makeshift bandage. He rubs some sort of cream on it, and the wound heals within seconds. He stands up with a wink, waving a hand in the direction of his doorway. The forcefield dissolves.

"Let's make a pact," he smiles.

I sigh, standing up and squaring my shoulders. Lucifer extends a hand out towards me. I take it. Each brother turns and begins to walk.

I leave my humanity at the door, following the loves of my life into the eternally dark sky of the Devildom.

[xxafterthestormxx]

kc + “It’s our mutual friend’s wedding and they keep shoving us into each other because we’re the only ones at the ceremony who are single, but I lowkey don't mind though because you're really hot” AU.

Haven’t forgotten about these, I promise!

She can’t help but stare at her silver watch as she emerges from her chauffeur driven car and onto he sidewalk near the coach. She was a little early, but that was fine. Stefan wouldn’t murder her for turning up late to his big day with Elena, and she wouldn’t have to put up with his guilt trip.

She mentally calculated how long she would have to stay before beating a hasty retreat without seeming rude. Truth is, as happy as she was for Stefan and Elena, she hated weddings with a burning passion.

This tended to surprise people who knew her. And normally she’d be all over weddings, because it was an event and she loved events. But not weddings.

Maybe it was the fact that the day was riddled with cliches, or the fact that it was a celebration of two people in love, and everyone else had to watch the sickly sweet display, the simpering family members jostling for seniority in the wedding shots outside the church, the one grandma who always got really drunk and embarrassed herself on the dance floor.

But mostly, it was the fact that she never made it to her own wedding day, and it’s always a bitter reminder of the failure of her only long term relationship.

She thought that Tyler Lockwood had been it, that they’d be happy together and they’d raise a family of 2.5 kids with a white picket fence and a dog called Rover. Then of course, Tyler had been caught screwing the secretary at his office, and that had been that.

She’d been mostly single since that night three years ago, occasionally broken up by the odd fling and periods of time when she’d gone on dates with guys more than once. Nothing ever seemed to stick though, and she was fine with that, really.

It meant more time with Katherine, who she was sure was sequestered away inside the church now, a fixed smile on her face and a scandalous dress that she still looked gorgeous in. Katherine despite her beauty and her charms also had a tendency to remain single for some time, when she wasn’t fucking Elijah Mikaelson in a weird on off relationship. She’d given up trying to figure out how to define Katherine and Elijah, you just couldn’t.

“Excuse me, am I in the right place?”

It’s the British accent that captures her attention first as she turns her head towards the source of the voice, but it’s the gorgeous features of the man that has her lingering despite her heels already beginning to punish her feet.  

He’s tall and broad shouldered, and the dark suit that he’s wearing is tailored to perfection, lovingly outlining his muscular form. There’s day old stubble lingering along his jawlines and his eyes are a bright, crystalline blue.

She’s a little taken aback at this gorgeous specimen of a man, and any attempts at charm and flirtation are well and truly out the window when he prompts her silently with a quick smile.

“Well that depends. I’m assuming that you’re here for Stefan and Elena?” She asks politely, tucking her clutch under her arm and mentally high fiving herself for wearing the blue dress that makes her boobs look amazing and her legs look like those of a supermodel.

Hot British guy smiles to himself, and she doesn’t miss him trying to be subtle as he checks her out, eyes lingering on the curve of her arse in her dress for a moment. She files that away for future reference but doesn’t call him out on it.

“I guess that was a rather stupid question, wasn’t it? I’m Klaus. Are you here for the bride or the groom?” He asks, holding out his hand for politely.

She steps forward and takes his proffered hand and shakes, flashing him a bright smile.

“Both. I grew up with Stefan and Elena in Mystic Falls. I’m Caroline.” She supplies before dropping his hand and tilting her head towards the church. “We should probably get inside before Elena arrives. Wouldn’t want to ruin her big moment.”

“Indeed not.” Klaus agrees, turning towards the flight of steps leading up to the church and offering her his arm without a second thought, like the gesture is something he does regularly.

Hot and a gentlemen. This is definitely something she could roll with.

She doesn’t miss the significant look Katherine gives her when she slides into one of the back pews next to her, Klaus settling in next to them and turning his gaze towards the front of the church.

She’s waiting for Katherine to say something, the other girl leaning in, but instead Katherine leans past her, touching Klaus gently on the shoulder to get his attention.

Klaus’ face lights up in recognition as he spots Katherine and smiles at her.

“Fancy seeing you here love. Didn’t manage to get Elijah to come along?” Klaus asks with a chuckle.

“Tried and failed.” Katherine admits with a quick grin. “You know what he’s like with unnecessary social occasions. It’s good to see you, I didn’t know you knew Caroline.”

“Oh I don’t.” Klaus replies. “We just met outside the church.”

The music swells suddenly before she can formulate any sort of response and as one the crowd turns to face the back of the church.

Stefan and Elena’s wedding is as predictably sickening as she thought it would be. They’d been madly in love for years despite all the ups and downs that life decided to throw at them, and even she can’t help but smile when the two take their vows and seal it with a kiss.

Once the ceremony is over Katherine stretches her arms over her head with a relieved sigh.

“Well thank god that’s over. I could do with a stiff drink right about now.”

She can’t help but laugh to herself, because at least she’s not a stone cold bitch like Katherine is.

As she very quickly discovers at the reception, Klaus is fun.

She never would have expected it coming from him, so polite and charming, but she knew that once he called for a line of shots from the open bar that this was going to be good.

Even Katherine is charmed by Klaus, and that in and of itself is a hard thing to do. They’re seated together, and she doesn’t miss Katherine quickly swapping their name cards around so she’s seated next to Klaus, doesn’t miss the significant look that Katherine gives her, the way she leans in and whispers ‘he’s single’ into her ear.

Well then.

Stefan is slightly less obvious than Katherine, but she doesn’t miss the delighted smile on his face when he approaches the two of them, interrupting their conversation to say hello.

“Good, I see the two of you have met.”

Klaus smiles pleasantly up at Stefan as the two of them exchange greetings and shake hands. And then Klaus is turning his gaze back to her, staring at her with an odd look on his face.

She’s a little self conscious at the intensity of his gaze.

“Yes, a little earlier.” Klaus finally turns his gaze back towards Stefan, clapping him on the shoulder once before Stefan is moving on.

“How do you know Stefan?” She asks curiously as Klaus takes a sip of his drink.

“What makes you think I’m here for Stefan?” He replies with an amused smile on his lips.

“Because I’m pretty sure Elena would mention you.”

She knew she was right, Elena definitely wouldn’t hesitate to mention if Klaus was single and available. Her oldest friend did have an annoying quirk of setting her up with the most unsuitable guys possible.

“I’m an old friend of Stefan’s from college. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him- I was surprised to get his invitation in the mail.”

“And what is it that you do?” She continues her line of questioning, because Klaus is being surprisingly tight lipped about anything to do with his personal life.

“I’m a photographer. I shoot weddings mostly, other occasions as well. I’m located in New Orleans currently but I have lived elsewhere. And you sweetheart?”

His question mostly went unanswered, because she had already opened Instagram, putting in a search for his name. His profile picture is a broody black and white photo of him laying in the grass, squinting up at the sky.

Oh and there was just the small fact that he had-

“500,000 followers? You seriously have 500,000 followers on Instagram?” She blurts out as she continues to scroll through his feed. His work, to say the least, is absolutely amazing. Each shot perfectly staged, and he had a certain knack for capturing emotions of his subjects beautifully.

“It’s not something I typically broadcast to people upon first meeting them.” Klaus replies a little sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. But yes, I’m never really short of work.”

She stares at him for a long moment, before nodding to herself and getting to her feet.

“I think this calls for another round of shots.”

“3, 2, 1, go!” Katherine calls as they all reach for the shots, slamming back the straight vodka.

Klaus, who can seemingly unhinge his jaw like a snake, and looks perfectly fine despite the amount of alcohol he’s consumed, grins when he realises that he’s come out victorious again.

“No fair.” Katherine whines, a lock of hair coming undone from her otherwise elegant up do. It was odd seeing Katherine like this, loose limbed and pliant when she’s usually so rigid and so well put together.

“I won’t tell anyone, promise.” Klaus pats her on the shoulder companionably, eyes dancing with mirth as he turns that gaze on her. “Would you like to dance sweetheart?”

Miraculously, she doesn’t fall flat onto her face as Klaus pulls her onto the wooden dance floor. She’s far too buzzed to actually keep up with the rhythm of the jazzy song that the live band is playing, but Klaus is of course, unfairly good at dancing. She’s content to be steered around the floor by him.

“If you even think of dipping me, I will murder you.” She hisses at him as he twirls her away from him before pulling her back into his chest.

Klaus looks close to bursting into laughter, but keeps himself in check.

“I promise I’ll do nothing of the sort.”

Klaus is confident in a way that a lot of other men aren’t on the dance floor. The movements are almost automatic to him, and she suspects he’s had some sort of training prior to this occasion. That, or he has a really good natural rhythm.

“Of course you’d be good at this as well.” She says with a sigh as she sways in his arms. Klaus looks down at her, bemused by her sudden outburst.

“My mother made all of my siblings take dance lessons when we were older. Elijah in particular excelled at it. I enjoyed it, but not enough to continue on with it. Although it has helped me out on more than a few occasions, so I’m grateful.”

The party begins winding down shortly afterwards, and soon enough she, Klaus, and Katherine find themselves out in the cool night air. She can’t help but shiver at the sudden change in temperature now that she’s not packed into the same room with fifty or so other bodies.

“Oh great, Elijah’s here. I’ll talk to you tomorrow once I’ve slept off the vodka. Klaus, you’re a demon in disguise I swear.” Katherine says with a laugh as she brushes her lips first against Klaus’ cheek, then hers.

Klaus lets out an amused chuckle as Katherine lifts an elegant hand in a wave as she makes her way towards the black BMW idling by the kerb.

“Are you okay to get home sweetheart?” Klaus asks as they both watch Katherine pull away.

“Yeah.” She answers, jumping slightly as Klaus settles his jacket around her shoulders. “I have a car coming for me soon. Don’t wait around on my account.” She tells Klaus, who shakes his head as a way of reply.

“And leave you here by yourself? Absolutely not. I’ll head off once you’re taken care of.”

She can’t help but smile to herself at his kindness, at his chivalry. Men like Klaus were a rare breed to come by. She kind of wondered why he was still single.

“Why are you still single?” She asks suddenly, mentally cursing herself for not being able to hold her tongue.

Klaus looks surprised by her question, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he considers her question.

“My work keeps me busy. I’ve not yet been able to find someone who understands that. Who is okay with that. I’m not a complete monk.” He remarks with a wink.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She responds feebly, waving a hand towards him. “It’s just… well you seem like quite the catch. Surely you’d have women lining up around the block to be with you.”

“Surprisingly no. And while the casual hookup thing suited me just fine when I was younger, now I find myself looking for something more substantial. More…”

“Meaningful?” She supplies, watches as his face lights up, happy that they’re on the same page.

“Exactly love. It seems like you’re looking for the same.”

“Something like that.” She trails off, glancing over his shoulder as her driver pulls up to the kerb. “This is me.” She tilts her head towards the car, Klaus following her line of gaze.

“I’ll let you get home then. It was a pleasure to meet you Caroline.” Klaus remarks sincerely, bending down to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Even if all of your friends were trying to set us up for the entire night.”

Instead of being mortified like she usually would, she instead laughs.

“Yeah they’re not exactly subtle are they? They only have my best interests at heart. It’s kind of sweet, if not a little misguided at times.”

“I suppose we’re lucky, to have people in our lives that care so much about us.” Klaus muses out loud as she begins her progress towards the car. Klaus leans forward, opening the door for her, resting his arms across the top of it.

She pauses, unsure as to whether or not she should ask Klaus for his number, if he was even interested in her in that way. She knew that she wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea.

She remembers then, that she’s still got Klaus’ jacket around her shoulders. She begins to remove it, to hand it back to him.

“Here. I don’t want to make off with this. It would be rude of me.” She tells him, holding out the garment for him to take.

She’s surprised then when Klaus’s fingers close gently around hers, pressing it back towards her body.

“Keep it. It’s cold out. And it gives me an excuse to see you again.”

“Yeah?” She asks him, a beaming smile creeping across her face.

“Yeah.” Klaus agrees, a teasing smile of his own. “I don’t normally do this, but I’d love to get your number?” He asks it like a question, still giving her a chance to back out if she really wants to.

“On one condition.” She replies, pausing, unsure how to phrase what she wants to say next. “That you actually do call me. So many guys have asked me for my number, but they never follow through.”

“Well that’s rather foolish, isn’t it?”

He hands over his phone, and she types her name and number into it, handing it back to him once she’s hit save.

“Thanks for keeping me sane tonight. I actually had fun.” She remarks with a quick smile, Klaus raising an eyebrow in surprise. “I usually hate weddings.” She clarifies.

“I think that’s a conversation for another day.” Klaus says gently, squeezing her hand. “Good night Caroline. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

This time it’s her turn to press a quick kiss to the corner of his lips before she’s sinking down into the backseat of the car.

“I’d really like that Klaus.”