Is there anybody who judges you for who your Blorbo is? / Would anybody judge you for who your Blorbo is?
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[Synopsis: Eddie Gluskin's prowl for a bride has stopped. His betrothed does not fear him like the others do. An unfortunate Variant finds out why.]
[S/I x Canon, warnings for canon-typical violence, mentions of misgendering, and offscreen character death.]
(AKA I wanted to write a fic around a few lines I had bouncing around in my head. ^-^. i havent posted writing here before uahhh.... i am a little goofy but it's ok.)
There was word rippling around Mount Massive. Spread by everyone who heard the whispers and lived long enough to pass them on.
The Groom had found a bride.
Gluskin's endless prowl for someone to wed had lead to death after death. The men feared even going near the vocational block, and some had taken to ushering others in there in an attempt to prevent the Groom from leaving and hunting elsewhere in the asylum.
And yet, at some point, the movement abruptly stopped. The murmurs and hums, even the screaming that periodically echoed out stopped.
Perhaps it was bravado that spurred the man on to investigate the block. Perhaps it was hope that the Groom was dead, and he could take control of the block and reap whatever it held. Perhaps it was simply madness.
Either way, it would prove to be no less dangerous than it was when the Groom was roaming the halls in search of a wife.
----
It was surprisingly easy to tame the groom.
Tame was an odd word, but it was the only one that made sense for the situation November had found himself in.
He found himself, at the moment, surprisingly lucid. Which meant that Eddie was likely not, likely wandering the halls and singing to himself again as he made whatever preparations he was so set on.
It felt like they took turns. One was lucid and able to think, the other was lost and disconnected from reality.
When November was like that- in the same state he had dragged himself to Mount Massive in a year ago- Eddie would hold him close until his half-comprehensible ramblings stopped. Make sure he was comfortable before leaving. Eddie never made November have to leave the storeroom that he'd claimed as home. At times, he even seemed to revel in November's agoraphobia.
It was all so simple. If the previous 'brides' hung around the vocational block knew how easy it had been, they would have laughed themselves mad from how uncomplicated the solution was.
When Eddie had found him, wandering the vocational block in an elopement episode, November hadn't run. He hadn't been mentally there enough to. That alone had earned him grace in the groom's eyes.
When he'd regained his mind, he hadn't screamed. Hadn't tried to run away.
Part of it was likely the blindfold he'd put over his own eyes when hell broke loose. The scent of death was potent, but without visuals, it was all muted. And part of it was pure exhaustion, sleep deprivation and fatigue and a bone-deep ache. But the largest part was the fact that he recognized the voice. Recognized it from the 'group therapy' sessions that were just two heavily medicated people and the disinterested therapist. Recognized it as Eddie.
"Wait," he'd said. "Please."
He'd caught Eddie off guard. No screams. No attempts to thrash away. Just quiet words.
"Weddings should be... perfect. For both of us. We shouldn't rush anything."
Eddie had given him a response along the lines of "now or never", but November had responded with his own excuse.
Never denying the idea of a wedding. Simply giving reasons that it shouldn't be here, or now. And Eddie had conceded, surprisingly gracefully.
And so it had gone.
"It's safer if you keep referring to me as a man, isn't it?"
"This is no place to raise children. We should wait until we're somewhere safer. I want to give them the best life possible."
"Love is a sacrifice, isn't it? We need to take care of each other. Even if it isn't easy."
"Can you find a blanket, please? It's cold in here."
"I'll tell you the rest of the story tomorrow."
And the "she"s had ended, Eddie acclimating to the concept of having a man for a bride. He still slipped, of course, but in the end it was just a word. Patience had won out. He seemed to have grown genuinely fond of November. And November had been fond of him in the first place.
All it took to save his life was to talk to Eddie. To phrase things in a way that didn't pull away from the reality Eddie was experiencing.
And so here he was. Comfortable. Safe. Everyone else was too terrified of Eddie to even think of approaching the vocational block, much less the room November was living in.
Until today.
The vocational block was often eerily silent when Eddie wasn't prowling the area near him. November was exhausted- there wasn't much food, and while Eddie brought meals, they were often full of rotten meat that November couldn't eat if it was fresh. ("I'll get sick. I don't want to risk ruining anything by being sick.")
They had loose plans for escape. Eddie had scavenged a radio off of an employee's corpse, and heard that Murkoff employees were going to come to the building soon. There would be chaos, in an attempt to capture the beast that had broken them all loose. That would be their chance to run away, to steal a car and drive until they were safe.
And they waited until then.
He had just laid down to try and sleep again when there were footsteps outside.
Not Eddie's- he knew those by heart.
Footsteps of a stranger, unconfident and unsure.
He startled, clawing instinctively at his legs to soothe himself.
Things didn't get better when he heard the door open, though. And the footsteps continue in.
This room was safe. This bed was safe. The horrors of Mount Massive outside couldn't get him in here. And yet here one was, walking towards him, smelling of an unfamiliar waste.
And then the stranger was on top of him, pulling his blindfold off, staring into his eyes.
The man was bald, gaunt, with sunken eyes, breath heaving. He reminded November, amid his panic, of a rabid animal.
"You th'.... th' bride?"
The man mumbled something inaudible after that, reaching up to touch one of the scars on November's face.
That snapped him out of his freeze response for a split second. Enough to try and shove the man away, to push him to the ground and withdraw to the back corner of the bed.
The man, of course, seemed unfazed. He stood up, rushing back to the bed, hissing out "TELL ME" from between gritted teeth as he pushed November's shoulder down with a strength too large for a body as frail-looking as his.
He smelled like sewage, like sweat and vomit as he dug his claw-like nails into November's skin. Ranting and raving about the Groom, something about rumors and silence from the block.
He drew blood, resisting every attempt from November to push him off. November couldn't even respond, his voice frozen in fear.
A madman had broken into his sanctuary. A madman was going to kill him, in the one place he felt safe. A madman was going to-
"Darling!"
A familiar voice rang out, coming from the shocked-looking man in the doorway.
Eddie could move so silently when he wanted to. Deceptively so, considering his size.
He threw something to the floor, moving far more quickly than a man his size should be able to and grabbing the man by the collar of his jumpsuit, pulling him away. November let out a quiet "ow" as the stranger's nails pulled out of his shoulders, followed by a hiss of pain.
"I leave you for an hour, and you're already in bed with another man. I thought better of you, darling. I thought you weren't- darling?"
November didn't care about Eddie's chastising rant. He got like this sometimes, anyways. What he did care about was the fact he could have died if it wasn't for Eddie being there at the right time, torn to shreds by another maniac who couldn't be reasoned with.
It was a fact that was sinking in now that he didn't have to worry about the stranger, who was currently trying to fight back against Eddie ineffectually.
So he started crying.
It wasn't an intentional response. He'd prefer not to, honestly. But the tears came, and with them the hiccups and the shaking and the blood on his hospital gown.
That, and the snarling of the man in his grasp- it painted a vivid enough picture that Eddie's gaze softened, and he sighed softly.
"I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, darling. Let me deal with this, I'll be right back."
And with that, he left. Taking the stranger with him.
November didn't care what happened while Eddie was gone. He didn't care about what the screams could have been. All he cared about was staggering out of bed to find his blindfold, putting it back on, and laying back down. Trying to calm himself.
He didn't know how long it was before Eddie's steps returned. He was always less silent when it was just the two of them. It reassured November.
When he returned, he walked around the room, before placing something down on the broken half of a locker that November had repurposed into a bedside table.
"There are flowers growing outside, darling. I thought you might like some."
There was a familiar weight on the bed beside him, and a fresh, metallic scent.
"You wouldn't... with another man, would you?"
November shook his head. Swallowed, pushing words out like he was choking on them.
"Why would I? I have you. Nobody else could compare."
Eddie liked that. November could tell, because he relaxed, putting a hand on the side of November's face and caressing it with his thumb. Smearing what was likely blood on it, but that was alright.
He meant what he'd said. November wasn't sure he was capable of loving anyone else. It was the speaking that was hard, when he was so shaken.
"You'll forgive me for thinking the worst, won't you? After all, so much heartbreak... so many people out there say they love you only to betray you when your back was turned. I was wrong, to assume you one of them, of course. But you must understand that I had my reasons."
No verbal response was needed. November could just nod. That was enough.
"Let me take your blindfold off. I want to see you."
November offered no resistance. He didn't want to suffer another vision, of course, but he wanted to see Eddie as well.
And there he was. A monster of a man, with scars and rashes from his poor care, bloodshot and cold blue eyes, with the gentlest and most beautiful smile November had ever seen. Bloodstained hands caressing his cheek. A broken tin cup of half-wilted flowers on the locker as the single lightbulb in the room flickered softly.
"I love you."
"I love you too, darling. I think I'll stay here for a while. It's a man's duty, after all. To protect."
Eddie laid down as he spoke, pulling the thin blanket over the both of them and running a hand through November's hair, idling on the white streak in it. Pressed a kiss to his forehead before speaking again.
"You won't have to worry about men like that again. I'll find you a padlock. Just until we're out of here."
November nodded, half-asleep already. It was hard not to, when he had someone so warm and comfortable to sleep next to.
He didn't have to speak. Not right now. There was something more than words between them.
The two of them fell asleep tangled in each other's arms. Holding the most important things in their world.
being sad and trying to think about ur favorite characters to make yourself feel better is always kinda funny when every character u like is an abominable piece of shit. try to think "[X] would comfort me" no they would fucking Noooootttttt. Lol
Couldn't sleep, started rewriting the fic my s/i meets whatever Papa. I need to sleep now before I get sucked into this. . .
Originally, it had been respite from the rain— a heavy, constant rush of cold dampness that stuck to his clothes and soaked him to the bone. To shake off the lingering cold, and hide away from the fog until h sun could come out.
Unhelpfully, the weatherman has cheerily said it would only rain for a few hours. It was currently past a few hours.
Elias Decorum sighed, peering out the windows as the rain continued to pour. He hasn't even thought of entering the church until he saw it and it was like he was home again. Not that this was his church. But there was a sense of familiarity that brought him comfort.
As he looked around the dimly lit room, he sighed, eyes skipping past the odd decor. It didn't register to him how different everything was compared to his old church.
Outside, the rain seemed to sense the change, and another loud wave of rain began to pelt the building. Elias sat down in a pew, shedding a singular soaked layer of clothing.
Folding it neatly and placing it beside himself, Elias looked towards the ceiling and then down. With a singular hand he pulled down the bar to kneel on.
He became too-aware of his breathing as he fished the worn, silver cross necklace out from under his shirt. How long had it been? Months? The thought ignited many emotions that Elias wished would go away. He'd pray would go away.
He sighed, closed his eyes, and tried to clear his thoughts.
Those damn thoughts.
A constantly flowing current, snuffing out the flame he wanted. His mind needed to be clear. How else would he be heard?
He shook his head, hand moving as he began to mumble the start of a prayer. “...Dear God…”
Immediately, his voice began to falter, his right hand clutching his necklace like a lifeline.
What to say? Where to start? What to ask?
“...I—” he cuts himself off, tears already starting to form. “It has… It…” he sniffles, cursing silently as he tries to choose something to say. A prayer constantly repeated, a sentence, a word, anything.
The more he tries, the more his mouth moves, as he bows his head again, restarts, crosses himself, the less and less coherent he becomes
Elias forgoes ending the prayer correctly— doesn't cross himself again, says no thanks, no acknowledgements as he slowly gets up, sits back on the pew, and starts to cry.
At first, it's barely noticeable. Hot tears that trail down his cheeks, but no sound. And then it starts. The soft hiccuping, the shaking, whimpering, as every word he couldn't say comes tumbling out.
The plea to be heard, to be seen, to be listened to. “I need to know it was the right choice! I need you to fucking do what you're supposed too! I need a sign! Why won't you answer me?! Am I not worthy of it? Did I lose your respect? Am I not still your child? Am I lost? Why abandon me? Why! Why, why, why? When I need you most?”
As he kept crying, hands covering his face, fingers digging into the tender skin around his eyes, he failed to notice the new body in the room.