i'm really disappointed in both avid and marm. although i was not a huge watcher of their content personally, it really hurts to see youtubers i enjoyed turn out to not be the people i thought they were.
mcyt has always been a very tricky space for controversy. in many cases characters and creators are intertwined, and for those reasons the actions of a creator coming to light can heavily affect one's perception of a character. i will not try to recommend or make someone else's decisions on how they choose to proceed with avid's or marm's characters.
i personally will not be supporting their content or creating fan content with their characters in it, but i respect other creators' decisions to proceed as they wish.
to anyone who was much deeper into avid and marm's content, those who were especially fixated on it, or those who happen to be fictives, my heart goes out to you. my dms are always open if you need it.
stand with the real victims, regardless of how you choose to proceed with the characters.
Every time I write firelocke I feel like I’m writing about my beautiful handsome prince Abolish and the rat that he just so happened to adopt out of the gutter. That’s what they are to me.
Louis never knew Scott, but when he found a sleeping vampire buried in a shoddy coffin that had unburied itself after years of rain wearing away the dirt, he decided to move him to the old abandoned crypt, just to make sure no humans would stumble upon him, and so he could rest safely and comfortably. He would come visit from time to time to clean the dust and check if he was waking up.
Scott still thinks the witches that put him to sleep would respect him enough to put him in a proper stone coffin. He'll probably never know otherwise.
Wait that's actually really sweet I love that so much
The night Legundo got turned was indescribably gruesome.
Owen used a combination of his axe & his claws (albeit dull) to tear his way into the doctor.
The Doctor tried to run away after his sword got knocked out of his hands, but Owen caught him by the back of his head with his axe (it caved into his skull). Leveraging the axe, Owen forcefully pulled the doctor's head as far back as it could, stretching the front of his neck out, before biting down as hard as he could. This is also why Legs was breathing & gasping very hard during the aftermath.
Sometimes you people astound me with your dark creativity. Good job!
I'm having a major headache and cramps (yeey period). Guess who I'm projecting it onto?
If you said our lovely doctor
Ding,ding,ding!
You are correct!! Enjoy while I suffer through this headache because I have a deadline of tomorrow.
Legundo had treated men with bullet wounds while his own hands shook from exhaustion. He had stitched torn flesh by lantern light with blood drying under his fingernails. He had dragged himself through fevers, starvation, sleepless nights, because soldiers did not stop simply because they hurt.
But this...
This was unbearable.
The pain had started behind his right eye sometime before dawn, subtle enough that he ignored it at first. A pulse. A little pressure. He remembered squinting against the morning light while buttoning his shirt and thinking vaguely, I should probably drink water.
By noon it felt like someone had driven a stake through his skull.
Every sound became sharp. Every flicker of light scraped against his eyes like broken glass. Even breathing felt wrong somehow, too loud inside his head. The world tilted unpleasantly whenever he moved too fast, nausea curling viciously in his stomach.
And still, he smiled.
Because Louis was excited.
That alone made enduring it worthwhile.
Louis had spent nearly three days talking about this little outing they planned together. Nothing extravagant, just wandering the city at night, stopping at bookstores and little hidden cafés that stayed open late for vampires and insomniacs alike. Owen had pretended not to care, but Legundo had caught him quietly setting aside one of his nicer coats earlier that evening.
They were looking forward to it.
Legundo refused to ruin that.
So he sat at the edge of the bed in the darkened room, elbows on his knees, pressing trembling fingers hard against his temple while the world spun sickeningly around him.
You are a doctor, he scolded himself silently. For God’s sake, act like one.
He knew what he should do. Water. Darkness. Quiet. Medication if they had any, that would even touch this kind of pain. Rest before it worsens further.
Instead, he tried standing. The room lurched violently. A sharp wave of agony slammed through his skull so suddenly his knees buckled. He caught himself against the dresser with a strangled breath, vision flashing white for half a second.
“Oh, fuck—”
Even whispering hurt. He stayed bent there, gripping the wood so tightly his knuckles whitened.
Somewhere downstairs, he heard Louis laughing. Soft. Warm. Happy.
Legundo closed his eyes.
Just lie down for a little while, he thought desperately. Just until it eases. Then you can go.
That was reasonable.
Manageable.
He made it back to the bed mostly by memory rather than sight and collapsed into the blankets without bothering to undress. The room was blissfully dark, curtains drawn tight against the evening light, but even that wasn’t enough. He shoved his face into the pillow to escape the ache drilling through his head.
His heartbeat throbbed painfully behind his eyes.
Minutes passed.
Or maybe hours.
He wasn’t sure anymore.
The migraine swallowed time strangely, reducing existence down to pain management and survival. Stay still. Don’t move too quickly. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t throw up.
Somewhere in the haze, the bedroom door creaked open.
Legundo immediately forced himself upright.
The motion nearly killed him.
“Hey,” Louis said softly from the doorway. “You ready? Owen’s pretending he isn’t impatient but he’s been standing by the door for ten minutes.”
Legundo smiled automatically before he even fully looked at him.
God, that smile hurt.
“Mmhm,” he mumbled. “Just tired.”
Louis tilted his head. Even in the dim light his eyes gleamed gold-red, sharp with concern. “You look pale.”
“I am pale.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It was a little funny.”
Louis didn’t laugh. Legundo’s stomach sank slightly.
He was usually better at this. Normally he could smooth over discomfort with a smile, a joke, a gentle touch to redirect attention elsewhere. But thinking itself felt sluggish now, like wading through wet cement.
Louis stepped closer. Every footstep sounded thunderously loud. Legundo tried not to visibly flinch.
“You okay?” Louis asked quietly.
“Fine.” The lie came too quickly. Louis narrowed his eyes immediately. Legundo cursed internally. Vampires were unfairly observant. Especially his vampires.
“I’m just tired,” he tried again, softer this time. “Long day.”
Louis sat carefully beside him on the bed. The mattress shifted gently beneath the added weight.
Too much movement. Too much everything.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Legundo opened his mouth to argue again before another pulse of agony hit him full force. His breath caught sharply despite himself, fingers instinctively digging into the blankets.
Louis went still.
“…Legs?”
That nickname nearly undid him, not because of the words themselves, but because of the sudden worry threaded through them.
Legundo swallowed hard. “I just need a minute.”
Louis stared at him another second before quietly reaching up to touch the side of his face. Legundo recoiled instantly. Not from fear. From pain.
The motion itself sent his head spinning. Louis pulled his hand back like he’d been burned.
“Oh my God.”
“No, no, I’m okay—”
“You’re hurting.”
“I’ve had migraines before—”
“Before?” Louis repeated incredulously. “And you were still planning to come out with us?”
Legundo looked away guiltily.
The bedroom door opened again before he could answer. Owen stepped inside, halfway through saying something dry and sarcastic before stopping abruptly. His expression changed immediately. Owen crossed the room in seconds.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Legundo said weakly.
“Bullshit.”
The word wasn’t cruel. Just frightened. That somehow felt worse.
Legundo rubbed at his eyes miserably. “It’s only a migraine.”
“Only,” Owen echoed flatly.
Louis was already moving around the room now, closing the curtains tighter, lowering lights, fussing quietly with frantic energy.
Owen crouched in front of Legundo instead, cool hands carefully settling around his wrists. “You should’ve told us.”
“I didn’t want to ruin tonight.”
The silence after that hurt almost as much as the migraine. Owen’s face softened in a way that made Legundo’s chest ache.
“You think spending time with you only matters when we’re outside doing something?”
Legundo blinked slowly. “I just…” His voice cracked weakly. “You were both excited.”
Louis returned with a glass of water and medication, expression somewhere between worried and offended.
“And you thought we’d rather watch you suffer quietly?”
“Well when you say it like that—”
“Legundo.”
The sheer exasperation in Louis’ voice almost made him smile.
Almost.
Instead another wave of nausea rolled through him and he squeezed his eyes shut with a soft, pained sound. Immediately both vampires moved closer.
“Easy,” Owen murmured.
“Don’t move too fast,” Louis added gently.
Strong, cool hands guided him back down against the pillows. Someone, Louis, probably, carefully pressed the medication into his hand alongside the water.
Legundo obeyed without protest this time.
The room settled into quiet darkness afterward. Owen sat beside him on one side of the bed while Louis settled on the other, cool fingers carding gently through Legundo’s hair. The touch was feather-light now, careful not to worsen the pain.
“You should sleep,” Owen murmured.
Legundo made a weak sound. “You don’t have to stay.”
Both vampires stared at him. Then Louis actually laughed once in disbelief.
“As if we’re leaving.”
“We can go another night,” Owen said simply.
Legundo felt something warm and guilty twist painfully in his chest.
“I’m sorry.”
“No,” Louis said immediately.
Owen nodded once. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re in pain,” Louis continued softly. “You don’t apologize for that.”
Legundo looked between them tiredly, eyes burning. For a long moment, nobody spoke. Then Owen reached over and carefully adjusted the blanket higher around Legundo’s shoulders with surprising gentleness.
Louis continued stroking his hair rhythmically. And slowly, very slowly, the pounding in Legundo’s skull became survivable.
Not gone.
But survivable.
Safe.
The last thing he remembered before sleep finally dragged him under was Louis pressing a soft kiss against his forehead while Owen quietly whispered:
“Next time, doctor, let someone take care of you.”
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