Poor Unfortunate Mallory

I tire. {4/10}

[pissylittlebirdboy]

list of ENEMIES (in order of most wanted dead)

set my damn colleague on fire. fucker. (the--real--god)

floating fucking head who capitalizes off of religious trauma and puts glorious lovely angels in bad places because he’s a twat (@the-metatron)

God (@the-almighty-god)

tried to fuck with my kids and broke my knee (@the-real-michael-demiurgos)

Marquis Leraje

the Marquis’ dumb hot assassin

snake fucker with the stupid glasses (@thedemon-crowley)

no no no please lord save me

angel fucker who talked back to me (@janeway-lover)

stupid old car that only plays one artist (@imthebentley)

fucking pauper who keeps stealing my stuff to make me mad (@youroneandonlysnakelady)

ray of sunshine with hair-bunny ears (why is that a trend in hell?) (@ask-eric-the-disposable-demon)

ugly as fuck crusty-white-dog hair so bad that the holy water should’ve defied the laws of physics to obliterate it from existence (@duke-hastur)

broader enemies

flies and anything in the family muscidae

homophobes

donald trump

croc-wearers

pinapple pizza enjoyers

people who cause inflation

child abusers

annoying motherfuckers

demon owl princes who cheat on their lovely wives with ugly fire toads

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Hi Ulysses!!! It’s MEEEEEEEE!!!! ✨✨✨✨

I’ve missed you. 🫂

Ulysses startled awake, coming back from yet another lucid nightmare. His eyes, riddled with cataracts that hadn’t been there the last time he was observed, darted about, spooked by the act of suddenly being hugged. For the first minute of his being awake, his heart, although not the thing performing the action, pounded in his chest, as he thought he was being attacked. His tail, having opened as it always did when startled, locked its eyes on the person to give him back the vision that the cataracts diminished.

Wh- huh? Who? Who are- you, I- I can’t see too well.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

*The fly starts to make a move, but then - ! A great burst of light appears. It glows with warm, golden rays, and emits a calming sort of energy.

And then it began to speak with the King's voice.*

I have already told you once to leave him alone.

*The fly seems...frightened? Scared? Called out? It very quickly gets off of Ulysses' nose.*

Now I don't know why you're acting up, but I do know that if you don't leave right now, I will find a way to make sure you never lay your legs on even a crumb of a doughnut ever again.

And if you even think of dragging your Lord into all this and making it worse, I will come Down There myself and sort you all out on my own. Do I make myself clear?

*The fly nods - somehow - and vanishes with it's own little puff of smoke. The glowing light goes silent for a moment, but does not fade.*

Ulysses didn’t move, didn’t blink. He barely even breathed—just little breaths puffing in and out of him. The startle from the appearance of the light left him pressed further into the corner, staring off into space with wide eyes.

The fly was gone. It was gone. Dismissed by the King herself. He was safe.

He clutched the hilts of his swords till his hands shook.

He slid down the wall, ending up on the floor where he became something of a sphere given his knees fucked go his chest and his general attempts to make himself smaller. To hold himself. Soft calls, quieter versions of his standard variety, emerged from his tangle of limbs as his body shook with tension and tears. Every day was another nightmare. It was unending He couldn’t-

I can’t keep- hic going like this—oh, I can’t… I can’t!

He dropped the hilts to his swords, hearing them clatter to the floor as his cries crescendoed. What a shame this was all his fault.

[janeway-lover]

*The glowing ball of light glowed - not stronger, per se, but warmer. It radiated calmness, peace, serenity, and all those other fancy words for "calming the fuck down." It was bright, of course, but not so bright as to be blinding.*

Ulysses? How can I help?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He looked up through blurry eyes to the mote of light before him. The mote of light. The King. He was crying in front of the King.

Shit.

Ulysses began to rub at his eyes in a quickened manner, soaking water into his sleeves and rubbing them into his feathers. The tears had already stopped—he’d taught himself how to do that on command centuries ago. He just needed to be rid of the evidence. As he drew himself to stand and shook out his neck, he appeared fully, remarkably, composed. He looked normal. His under eyes didn’t appear puffy or red, he wasn’t sniffling. It was as if he had an allotted time period for breakdowns that had just ended.

Your Majesty; hello. Thank you dearly for the aid, but I’m quite alright. I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to than myself.

[janeway-lover]

Hello, Ulysses.

*There's not a whole lot of expression that a ball of light can do, but one gets the sense that she's smiling rather sadly.*

What could be more important than ensuring that my subjects are alright?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Ulysses had slapped that roguish smile on his face some time before this point. It had taken years of rehearsal to make it so convincing. He chuckled.

Yes, horrifically negligent of your kingdom as always, your Majesty; you’re an absolute train wreck.

The corners of his eyes crinkled with mischief.

Alas, I am not one of those subjects. I’ve been free as a- well, bird, for centuries. You’ve got no need to manage me.

[janeway-lover]

*The light flickered as she laughed.*

Alright, then. What could be more important than ensuring that my brother's friend is alright?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Ulysses extended his arms with a flare, as if to say ‘here I am’.

Although you’re very cold hearted in your endeavors, well … I’m right here. I’m fine.

His arms went back to his sides.

What, do you want me to do a cartwheel or something to prove it?

There was a very playful nature to him, which was odd, because it differed from any normal way a person should respond after the appearance of a fly given an ungodly fear of flies.

@janeway-lover

[pissylittlebirdboy]

*The fly starts to make a move, but then - ! A great burst of light appears. It glows with warm, golden rays, and emits a calming sort of energy.

And then it began to speak with the King's voice.*

I have already told you once to leave him alone.

*The fly seems...frightened? Scared? Called out? It very quickly gets off of Ulysses' nose.*

Now I don't know why you're acting up, but I do know that if you don't leave right now, I will find a way to make sure you never lay your legs on even a crumb of a doughnut ever again.

And if you even think of dragging your Lord into all this and making it worse, I will come Down There myself and sort you all out on my own. Do I make myself clear?

*The fly nods - somehow - and vanishes with it's own little puff of smoke. The glowing light goes silent for a moment, but does not fade.*

Ulysses didn’t move, didn’t blink. He barely even breathed—just little breaths puffing in and out of him. The startle from the appearance of the light left him pressed further into the corner, staring off into space with wide eyes.

The fly was gone. It was gone. Dismissed by the King herself. He was safe.

He clutched the hilts of his swords till his hands shook.

He slid down the wall, ending up on the floor where he became something of a sphere given his knees fucked go his chest and his general attempts to make himself smaller. To hold himself. Soft calls, quieter versions of his standard variety, emerged from his tangle of limbs as his body shook with tension and tears. Every day was another nightmare. It was unending He couldn’t-

I can’t keep- hic going like this—oh, I can’t… I can’t!

He dropped the hilts to his swords, hearing them clatter to the floor as his cries crescendoed. What a shame this was all his fault.

[janeway-lover]

*The glowing ball of light glowed - not stronger, per se, but warmer. It radiated calmness, peace, serenity, and all those other fancy words for "calming the fuck down." It was bright, of course, but not so bright as to be blinding.*

Ulysses? How can I help?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He looked up through blurry eyes to the mote of light before him. The mote of light. The King. He was crying in front of the King.

Shit.

Ulysses began to rub at his eyes in a quickened manner, soaking water into his sleeves and rubbing them into his feathers. The tears had already stopped—he’d taught himself how to do that on command centuries ago. He just needed to be rid of the evidence. As he drew himself to stand and shook out his neck, he appeared fully, remarkably, composed. He looked normal. His under eyes didn’t appear puffy or red, he wasn’t sniffling. It was as if he had an allotted time period for breakdowns that had just ended.

Your Majesty; hello. Thank you dearly for the aid, but I’m quite alright. I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to than myself.

[janeway-lover]

Hello, Ulysses.

*There's not a whole lot of expression that a ball of light can do, but one gets the sense that she's smiling rather sadly.*

What could be more important than ensuring that my subjects are alright?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Ulysses had slapped that roguish smile on his face some time before this point. It had taken years of rehearsal to make it so convincing. He chuckled.

Yes, horrifically negligent of your kingdom as always, your Majesty; you’re an absolute train wreck.

The corners of his eyes crinkled with mischief.

Alas, I am not one of those subjects. I’ve been free as a- well, bird, for centuries. You’ve got no need to manage me.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

*The fly starts to make a move, but then - ! A great burst of light appears. It glows with warm, golden rays, and emits a calming sort of energy.

And then it began to speak with the King's voice.*

I have already told you once to leave him alone.

*The fly seems...frightened? Scared? Called out? It very quickly gets off of Ulysses' nose.*

Now I don't know why you're acting up, but I do know that if you don't leave right now, I will find a way to make sure you never lay your legs on even a crumb of a doughnut ever again.

And if you even think of dragging your Lord into all this and making it worse, I will come Down There myself and sort you all out on my own. Do I make myself clear?

*The fly nods - somehow - and vanishes with it's own little puff of smoke. The glowing light goes silent for a moment, but does not fade.*

Ulysses didn’t move, didn’t blink. He barely even breathed—just little breaths puffing in and out of him. The startle from the appearance of the light left him pressed further into the corner, staring off into space with wide eyes.

The fly was gone. It was gone. Dismissed by the King herself. He was safe.

He clutched the hilts of his swords till his hands shook.

He slid down the wall, ending up on the floor where he became something of a sphere given his knees fucked go his chest and his general attempts to make himself smaller. To hold himself. Soft calls, quieter versions of his standard variety, emerged from his tangle of limbs as his body shook with tension and tears. Every day was another nightmare. It was unending He couldn’t-

I can’t keep- hic going like this—oh, I can’t… I can’t!

He dropped the hilts to his swords, hearing them clatter to the floor as his cries crescendoed. What a shame this was all his fault.

[janeway-lover]

*The glowing ball of light glowed - not stronger, per se, but warmer. It radiated calmness, peace, serenity, and all those other fancy words for "calming the fuck down." It was bright, of course, but not so bright as to be blinding.*

Ulysses? How can I help?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He looked up through blurry eyes to the mote of light before him. The mote of light. The King. He was crying in front of the King.

Shit.

Ulysses began to rub at his eyes in a quickened manner, soaking water into his sleeves and rubbing them into his feathers. The tears had already stopped—he’d taught himself how to do that on command centuries ago. He just needed to be rid of the evidence. As he drew himself to stand and shook out his neck, he appeared fully, remarkably, composed. He looked normal. His under eyes didn’t appear puffy or red, he wasn’t sniffling. It was as if he had an allotted time period for breakdowns that had just ended.

Your Majesty; hello. Thank you dearly for the aid, but I’m quite alright. I’m sure you have more important matters to attend to than myself.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

*The fly starts to make a move, but then - ! A great burst of light appears. It glows with warm, golden rays, and emits a calming sort of energy.

And then it began to speak with the King's voice.*

I have already told you once to leave him alone.

*The fly seems...frightened? Scared? Called out? It very quickly gets off of Ulysses' nose.*

Now I don't know why you're acting up, but I do know that if you don't leave right now, I will find a way to make sure you never lay your legs on even a crumb of a doughnut ever again.

And if you even think of dragging your Lord into all this and making it worse, I will come Down There myself and sort you all out on my own. Do I make myself clear?

*The fly nods - somehow - and vanishes with it's own little puff of smoke. The glowing light goes silent for a moment, but does not fade.*

Ulysses didn’t move, didn’t blink. He barely even breathed—just little breaths puffing in and out of him. The startle from the appearance of the light left him pressed further into the corner, staring off into space with wide eyes.

The fly was gone. It was gone. Dismissed by the King herself. He was safe.

He clutched the hilts of his swords till his hands shook.

He slid down the wall, ending up on the floor where he became something of a sphere given his knees fucked go his chest and his general attempts to make himself smaller. To hold himself. Soft calls, quieter versions of his standard variety, emerged from his tangle of limbs as his body shook with tension and tears. Every day was another nightmare. It was unending He couldn’t-

I can’t keep- hic going like this—oh, I can’t… I can’t!

He dropped the hilts to his swords, hearing them clatter to the floor as his cries crescendoed. What a shame this was all his fault.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

🪰

buzz.

*"Doughnuts."

Another swoop, this time, right onto Ulysses' nose. Beak? His beak. Right on the edge, just landing perfectly still.*

He stared down the ridge of his beak, at the fly resting on its tip. His stomach rumbled. Sweat soaked into the feathers around his face, and the feathers on his body ruffled.

…do you- do you want… my tongue? My beak? I’ll- I’ll get it for you, I’ve- I’ve got my sword right here.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

🪰

buzzzzzzzzzzzz. buzzzzzzzzzzzz.

*The fly swoops down from the corner, just briefly swooshing past Ulysses. If one were able to understand it, the buzzing would be understood to be complaining about the lack of doughnuts.*

Ulysses stood stock-still, at attention. He didn’t want any more unwanted consequences.

I- I am too- un- unknowing to interpret your desires, my Lord. Would you- would you like me to- to move?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

🪰

buzz buzzzzzzzzzzz

*The fly sounds...annoyed?*

Ulysses swallowed the nothing in his throat, forcing himself to get himself together. He flattened his comb, to show humility, and he stood at attention, to show respect.

Y- yes, my Lord? How many I be of- of service?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

🪰

buzzzzzzzzzzz

Ulysses sat, staring off into some far off nothing, while he steadily ‘preened’ himself.

This preening looked suspiciously like pulling out his feathers one by one, but who was he to look into fine print? It wasn’t like he’d had a good history with it before this point. He clutched the hilts of his swords in either hand, arms crossed over his chest in a fashion almost like hugging himself, squeezing out the air in a chest that thumped with a foreign heartbeat.

He was dead.

He should be dead.

Why couldn’t he just be dead?

Similar sentiments to these cycled through the scrambled scene of his mind, searching for some semblance of safety, of peace. Oh, but when had his life ever been so simple?

He felt little limbs squirming around, keeping him alive. How psychotic. How poetic. How utterly ridiculous.

He stood against a wall, leaning with his back flush to a corner. Much like the flies, it was stupid how having his back to a corner could bring peace of mind and a lack of it. So many nuances. Why couldn’t anything be one thing or another?

Why couldn’t he be one thing or another?

He was supposed to be dead.

He was supposed to be a prince.

The serpent on his sash felt like it was staring at him. It probably was.

He almost hoped it was.

Buzzzz.

It cut through his fog like a knife.

The shafts of his swords appeared in a flourish of flame, his back off the wall in an instant as he stood alert at attention. His tail covered everything behind him.

His eyes, frenzied and searching, found the thing before he did. It sat in the opposite corner, up in a cobwebbed ceiling, little feasts like ants and moths wrapped in silk. The spider that lived there had vacated rapidly, as he wished he could. There were few times he ever wished he was similar to a bug.

The damn thing didn’t seem to be doing anything, though. It didn’t summon those tremolos, buzzing and approaching, like they might’ve in a more dangerous situation. At least there was that.

Still, he stood, unblinkingly staring, as his heart thundered on. He couldn’t stand the risk of dishonoring it. His skin clung to his ribs, his head spin, and his heart kept beating still.

He couldn’t die again. He just couldn’t.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Would you be willing to help me with something?

Ulysses was sat in the middle of his newly upgraded hole-in-the-wall, staring pointedly and almost afraid at an array of very oxidized apple slices that were… sitting on the floor. He didn’t have plates. Dust was collecting around him and the slices. He’d clearly been at it for a while.

There was a decent delay between the hearing of the words, the processing of them, and the breaking of prolonged unblinking eye contact from his greatest enemy: food. He looked at the King, processed her presence with all the energy of a small crusty white dog, and seemingly didn’t freak out.

A few seconds passed.

…

AAGH!

He jumped back, feathers puffed up and tail unfurled. As he did, some part of his gangly silhouette caught on something and he somehow tripped backwards while sitting. Combining that with the head rush and dizziness that comes with malnutrition, it meant he hit his head on an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, let out a strangled squawk, and fell backwards into the wall, where he hit his head again. He put a hand to his head, squinting in pain as he sat in his jumbled, fallen pile.

Ow…

[janeway-lover]

Oh! Goodness, are you alright?

*She steps over to him - slowly! - and kneels down. She puts one hand against his forehead, as if checking his temperature. Her hand glows from healing.*

I didn't mean to startle you.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Many of the eyes on his tail were squinting or peeking open, almost comedically bruised. They had a lot of cartoonish comedy in them, those eyes. Some of them had dizzy spiralling pupils, and others gave the illusion of black eyes. The main set was beginning to peek open. He looked tired in a sort of disdainful way.

It’s- it’s alright.

He shut his eyes again as the warm glow began its distance-decaying spread from his forehead to his soul. This was metaphoric, of course, as he never had a soul haha what are you talking about, but the meaning remains firm.

So, er… why are you- why are you here?

[janeway-lover]

I wanted to see if you'd be willing to help me with something.

I've developed a demonic pain medication. It's still in its trial stage right now, and I'm hoping to get a few more data points. My sister thinks I should use rats, but that takes too long.

Would you be willing to try it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

The heat from the lightning dimly pulsed through the body of Ulysses, and his joints ached from the act of merely existing. He swallowed his pride and the phantom sense of a lump of flies in his mouth.

Of- of course. You’ve done so much for me.

[janeway-lover]

*She smiles. Do I even have to say that she's practically glowing?*

Oh, thank you. It's really such a help.

*She knows damn well that this damned bird is resistant to being helped, and is very purposefully playing her cards.*

Here. You will have to drink all of it, but I can get you something to wash it down with if need be.

*She pulls out a thermos - no longer steaming but still warm - and hands it to him. The liquid inside is green.*

[pissylittlebirdboy]

His neck folded in on itself, crown flattening against his head. He looked like a child with a fear of shots. Shots. Hah. If only it were that simple. So many nights in the cold, damp corners of warehouses. So much time spent praying that hastily-stitched wounds would not go into sepsis. Endless hours spent strapped to a chair while scientists feverishly generated data out of watching him writhe and scream and cry.

He wasn’t exactly fond of warm green substances and people giving the air of ‘I’m smiling to try and calm you down so you’ll do what I ask’. He also didn’t like things going down his throat—he could still feel little legs telling him he really needed to lose more weight if he ever wanted anyone thinking he wasn’t a colossal mound of shit.

I’m- I’m glad to help. Truly.

Her smile, brilliant and glowing and reminding him horribly of his mother’s, made him slightly less inclined to throw up. It was what an angel kissing his cheek might feel like, or something from one of those movie Beleth dragged him to their personal theatre to watch.

He stared at the thing like it was radioactive. He looked visibly displeased.

Mm. Looks… appetizing.

[janeway-lover]

*Something's wrong. She can tell that much. The only problem is, she doesn't know what's wrong.

Her smile falters slightly.*

Is...is everything alright? What is it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He hadn’t put his mask on quick enough. Bloody hell, what was he, an amateur? And of all the people to slip up infront of. Augh.

By the time he’d finished shaking out his neck, the smile that broke hearts and sold deals and, most importantly, told anyone and everyone that he was okay was on his face. It was a thing that had taken years of practiced, but it was practically a science at this point. It’s just acting. It’s just acting, Ulysses.

I’m alright, honest. Just… tasteless memories. You know.

Down the medicine, you coward. Show her the fearless hero. You’re Ulysses. Act like it.

Thus, he downed the whole thing in less than five seconds, shaking out his head and neck by the time he was done and showing her a triumphant smile. The panic and general clinical unwellness in his eyes was gone before he made eye contact. The liquid tasted of… home. Of a hearth’s warmth, of the feel of his mother’s robes. Of a place long gone, burnt to ash by the one who tasted it.

[janeway-lover]

*She pulls out her notebook, still wary of what Ulysses is upset over.*

Can you tell me how you feel?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

First shock, then wonder, then utter bewilderment washed over his face. Ulysses felt… not bad. For once. Holy shit.

Holy shit!

Ulysses lifted his arm, turning it over and then reversing, like a princess having been blessed with a dress made of stardust. What followed was a series of moving different parts of himself, staring in awe as his joints stopped aching and the seams on his feet became practically insensible, where he experienced that myth described to him that was ‘the normal amount of daily pain is no pain’. He began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more with pure jubilation and childlike wonder, till he began to cough and wheeze and throw up a little bit of stomach acid. Right. He was still in Hell. Just a shinier hell. Damn it.

With tears in his eyes half from the acid and half from unbridled elation, he locked eyes with the King. He gave the exhibited existence ly a dusty, decrepit stained glass window, cracked almost to the point of shattering, with the light of a sunrise shining through it for the first time in years.

So, this- this is how people are supposed to feel?

[janeway-lover]

*She nods, a large smile across her face. This time it is not because she is trying to calm him down, but purely because she is so happy to see him not in pain.*

Yes, this is - this is how things ought to be.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

It’s beautiful.

Streams of tears began to dampen his face as he marveled at the beauty of a life unburdened by constant pain, at the joy of a world he never thought he’d know. He danced and hopped and moved about the room with giddiness evicting the pain from his bones. Despite it all, thought, the voice in the back of his mind tried to hold him back. Surely, this was a one-time experience; a fleeting moment of joy that would only make his future worse. He mustn’t get too happy.

And, yet… oh, what the heck.

[janeway-lover]

*It was wonderful to see her friend so happy. Discretely, she jotted down a few notes, but for the most part, she just watched him dance around the room.*

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He paused his dance as it came to more of a lull. He cocked his head a tad as he looked at her, talons clicking on the floor as he took a few steps in place.

I, er… why… why did you decide to give this to… me? First? I mean…

He shook out his neck, fiddling with his hands as a sort of awkwardness took to him.

I’m not even… a proper subject of your kingdom. I’m in exile. Surely there were more important people to improve? Like- like the Sins, or any of the kings, or- or any of the Fallen.

Why me?

[janeway-lover]

Because you're my friend. You're in pain, and I wanted to help.

*She says it as though it should be obvious. Then she shrugs.*

And to be perfectly honest, you aren't the first person to test it. Beelz- I mean, the Prince and Crowley have both tried it already.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

There was a solid few seconds of silence while he stared at her, unblinking, like a child who’d heard their parents mention a vaccination. The panicked breathing he was clearly trying to stifle was audible. He swallowed hard, clearly trying to shake off the flashbacks.

M- my being your friend doesn’t nearly account for this resource distribution decision. There are much worse demons out there who need this… more, and- and I’m fine anyhow. Nine million years sort of gets you used to it.

Unless you gave it to me because, in the event of poor results of a Hellborne demon, my death would be insignificant to the kingdom. That’s most definitely it; why didn’t I think of that before?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Would you be willing to help me with something?

Ulysses was sat in the middle of his newly upgraded hole-in-the-wall, staring pointedly and almost afraid at an array of very oxidized apple slices that were… sitting on the floor. He didn’t have plates. Dust was collecting around him and the slices. He’d clearly been at it for a while.

There was a decent delay between the hearing of the words, the processing of them, and the breaking of prolonged unblinking eye contact from his greatest enemy: food. He looked at the King, processed her presence with all the energy of a small crusty white dog, and seemingly didn’t freak out.

A few seconds passed.

…

AAGH!

He jumped back, feathers puffed up and tail unfurled. As he did, some part of his gangly silhouette caught on something and he somehow tripped backwards while sitting. Combining that with the head rush and dizziness that comes with malnutrition, it meant he hit his head on an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, let out a strangled squawk, and fell backwards into the wall, where he hit his head again. He put a hand to his head, squinting in pain as he sat in his jumbled, fallen pile.

Ow…

[janeway-lover]

Oh! Goodness, are you alright?

*She steps over to him - slowly! - and kneels down. She puts one hand against his forehead, as if checking his temperature. Her hand glows from healing.*

I didn't mean to startle you.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Many of the eyes on his tail were squinting or peeking open, almost comedically bruised. They had a lot of cartoonish comedy in them, those eyes. Some of them had dizzy spiralling pupils, and others gave the illusion of black eyes. The main set was beginning to peek open. He looked tired in a sort of disdainful way.

It’s- it’s alright.

He shut his eyes again as the warm glow began its distance-decaying spread from his forehead to his soul. This was metaphoric, of course, as he never had a soul haha what are you talking about, but the meaning remains firm.

So, er… why are you- why are you here?

[janeway-lover]

I wanted to see if you'd be willing to help me with something.

I've developed a demonic pain medication. It's still in its trial stage right now, and I'm hoping to get a few more data points. My sister thinks I should use rats, but that takes too long.

Would you be willing to try it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

The heat from the lightning dimly pulsed through the body of Ulysses, and his joints ached from the act of merely existing. He swallowed his pride and the phantom sense of a lump of flies in his mouth.

Of- of course. You’ve done so much for me.

[janeway-lover]

*She smiles. Do I even have to say that she's practically glowing?*

Oh, thank you. It's really such a help.

*She knows damn well that this damned bird is resistant to being helped, and is very purposefully playing her cards.*

Here. You will have to drink all of it, but I can get you something to wash it down with if need be.

*She pulls out a thermos - no longer steaming but still warm - and hands it to him. The liquid inside is green.*

[pissylittlebirdboy]

His neck folded in on itself, crown flattening against his head. He looked like a child with a fear of shots. Shots. Hah. If only it were that simple. So many nights in the cold, damp corners of warehouses. So much time spent praying that hastily-stitched wounds would not go into sepsis. Endless hours spent strapped to a chair while scientists feverishly generated data out of watching him writhe and scream and cry.

He wasn’t exactly fond of warm green substances and people giving the air of ‘I’m smiling to try and calm you down so you’ll do what I ask’. He also didn’t like things going down his throat—he could still feel little legs telling him he really needed to lose more weight if he ever wanted anyone thinking he wasn’t a colossal mound of shit.

I’m- I’m glad to help. Truly.

Her smile, brilliant and glowing and reminding him horribly of his mother’s, made him slightly less inclined to throw up. It was what an angel kissing his cheek might feel like, or something from one of those movie Beleth dragged him to their personal theatre to watch.

He stared at the thing like it was radioactive. He looked visibly displeased.

Mm. Looks… appetizing.

[janeway-lover]

*Something's wrong. She can tell that much. The only problem is, she doesn't know what's wrong.

Her smile falters slightly.*

Is...is everything alright? What is it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He hadn’t put his mask on quick enough. Bloody hell, what was he, an amateur? And of all the people to slip up infront of. Augh.

By the time he’d finished shaking out his neck, the smile that broke hearts and sold deals and, most importantly, told anyone and everyone that he was okay was on his face. It was a thing that had taken years of practiced, but it was practically a science at this point. It’s just acting. It’s just acting, Ulysses.

I’m alright, honest. Just… tasteless memories. You know.

Down the medicine, you coward. Show her the fearless hero. You’re Ulysses. Act like it.

Thus, he downed the whole thing in less than five seconds, shaking out his head and neck by the time he was done and showing her a triumphant smile. The panic and general clinical unwellness in his eyes was gone before he made eye contact. The liquid tasted of… home. Of a hearth’s warmth, of the feel of his mother’s robes. Of a place long gone, burnt to ash by the one who tasted it.

[janeway-lover]

*She pulls out her notebook, still wary of what Ulysses is upset over.*

Can you tell me how you feel?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

First shock, then wonder, then utter bewilderment washed over his face. Ulysses felt… not bad. For once. Holy shit.

Holy shit!

Ulysses lifted his arm, turning it over and then reversing, like a princess having been blessed with a dress made of stardust. What followed was a series of moving different parts of himself, staring in awe as his joints stopped aching and the seams on his feet became practically insensible, where he experienced that myth described to him that was ‘the normal amount of daily pain is no pain’. He began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more with pure jubilation and childlike wonder, till he began to cough and wheeze and throw up a little bit of stomach acid. Right. He was still in Hell. Just a shinier hell. Damn it.

With tears in his eyes half from the acid and half from unbridled elation, he locked eyes with the King. He gave the exhibited existence ly a dusty, decrepit stained glass window, cracked almost to the point of shattering, with the light of a sunrise shining through it for the first time in years.

So, this- this is how people are supposed to feel?

[janeway-lover]

*She nods, a large smile across her face. This time it is not because she is trying to calm him down, but purely because she is so happy to see him not in pain.*

Yes, this is - this is how things ought to be.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

It’s beautiful.

Streams of tears began to dampen his face as he marveled at the beauty of a life unburdened by constant pain, at the joy of a world he never thought he’d know. He danced and hopped and moved about the room with giddiness evicting the pain from his bones. Despite it all, thought, the voice in the back of his mind tried to hold him back. Surely, this was a one-time experience; a fleeting moment of joy that would only make his future worse. He mustn’t get too happy.

And, yet… oh, what the heck.

[janeway-lover]

*It was wonderful to see her friend so happy. Discretely, she jotted down a few notes, but for the most part, she just watched him dance around the room.*

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He paused his dance as it came to more of a lull. He cocked his head a tad as he looked at her, talons clicking on the floor as he took a few steps in place.

I, er… why… why did you decide to give this to… me? First? I mean…

He shook out his neck, fiddling with his hands as a sort of awkwardness took to him.

I’m not even… a proper subject of your kingdom. I’m in exile. Surely there were more important people to improve? Like- like the Sins, or any of the kings, or- or any of the Fallen.

Why me?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Would you be willing to help me with something?

Ulysses was sat in the middle of his newly upgraded hole-in-the-wall, staring pointedly and almost afraid at an array of very oxidized apple slices that were… sitting on the floor. He didn’t have plates. Dust was collecting around him and the slices. He’d clearly been at it for a while.

There was a decent delay between the hearing of the words, the processing of them, and the breaking of prolonged unblinking eye contact from his greatest enemy: food. He looked at the King, processed her presence with all the energy of a small crusty white dog, and seemingly didn’t freak out.

A few seconds passed.

…

AAGH!

He jumped back, feathers puffed up and tail unfurled. As he did, some part of his gangly silhouette caught on something and he somehow tripped backwards while sitting. Combining that with the head rush and dizziness that comes with malnutrition, it meant he hit his head on an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, let out a strangled squawk, and fell backwards into the wall, where he hit his head again. He put a hand to his head, squinting in pain as he sat in his jumbled, fallen pile.

Ow…

[janeway-lover]

Oh! Goodness, are you alright?

*She steps over to him - slowly! - and kneels down. She puts one hand against his forehead, as if checking his temperature. Her hand glows from healing.*

I didn't mean to startle you.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Many of the eyes on his tail were squinting or peeking open, almost comedically bruised. They had a lot of cartoonish comedy in them, those eyes. Some of them had dizzy spiralling pupils, and others gave the illusion of black eyes. The main set was beginning to peek open. He looked tired in a sort of disdainful way.

It’s- it’s alright.

He shut his eyes again as the warm glow began its distance-decaying spread from his forehead to his soul. This was metaphoric, of course, as he never had a soul haha what are you talking about, but the meaning remains firm.

So, er… why are you- why are you here?

[janeway-lover]

I wanted to see if you'd be willing to help me with something.

I've developed a demonic pain medication. It's still in its trial stage right now, and I'm hoping to get a few more data points. My sister thinks I should use rats, but that takes too long.

Would you be willing to try it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

The heat from the lightning dimly pulsed through the body of Ulysses, and his joints ached from the act of merely existing. He swallowed his pride and the phantom sense of a lump of flies in his mouth.

Of- of course. You’ve done so much for me.

[janeway-lover]

*She smiles. Do I even have to say that she's practically glowing?*

Oh, thank you. It's really such a help.

*She knows damn well that this damned bird is resistant to being helped, and is very purposefully playing her cards.*

Here. You will have to drink all of it, but I can get you something to wash it down with if need be.

*She pulls out a thermos - no longer steaming but still warm - and hands it to him. The liquid inside is green.*

[pissylittlebirdboy]

His neck folded in on itself, crown flattening against his head. He looked like a child with a fear of shots. Shots. Hah. If only it were that simple. So many nights in the cold, damp corners of warehouses. So much time spent praying that hastily-stitched wounds would not go into sepsis. Endless hours spent strapped to a chair while scientists feverishly generated data out of watching him writhe and scream and cry.

He wasn’t exactly fond of warm green substances and people giving the air of ‘I’m smiling to try and calm you down so you’ll do what I ask’. He also didn’t like things going down his throat—he could still feel little legs telling him he really needed to lose more weight if he ever wanted anyone thinking he wasn’t a colossal mound of shit.

I’m- I’m glad to help. Truly.

Her smile, brilliant and glowing and reminding him horribly of his mother’s, made him slightly less inclined to throw up. It was what an angel kissing his cheek might feel like, or something from one of those movie Beleth dragged him to their personal theatre to watch.

He stared at the thing like it was radioactive. He looked visibly displeased.

Mm. Looks… appetizing.

[janeway-lover]

*Something's wrong. She can tell that much. The only problem is, she doesn't know what's wrong.

Her smile falters slightly.*

Is...is everything alright? What is it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He hadn’t put his mask on quick enough. Bloody hell, what was he, an amateur? And of all the people to slip up infront of. Augh.

By the time he’d finished shaking out his neck, the smile that broke hearts and sold deals and, most importantly, told anyone and everyone that he was okay was on his face. It was a thing that had taken years of practiced, but it was practically a science at this point. It’s just acting. It’s just acting, Ulysses.

I’m alright, honest. Just… tasteless memories. You know.

Down the medicine, you coward. Show her the fearless hero. You’re Ulysses. Act like it.

Thus, he downed the whole thing in less than five seconds, shaking out his head and neck by the time he was done and showing her a triumphant smile. The panic and general clinical unwellness in his eyes was gone before he made eye contact. The liquid tasted of… home. Of a hearth’s warmth, of the feel of his mother’s robes. Of a place long gone, burnt to ash by the one who tasted it.

[janeway-lover]

*She pulls out her notebook, still wary of what Ulysses is upset over.*

Can you tell me how you feel?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

First shock, then wonder, then utter bewilderment washed over his face. Ulysses felt… not bad. For once. Holy shit.

Holy shit!

Ulysses lifted his arm, turning it over and then reversing, like a princess having been blessed with a dress made of stardust. What followed was a series of moving different parts of himself, staring in awe as his joints stopped aching and the seams on his feet became practically insensible, where he experienced that myth described to him that was ‘the normal amount of daily pain is no pain’. He began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more with pure jubilation and childlike wonder, till he began to cough and wheeze and throw up a little bit of stomach acid. Right. He was still in Hell. Just a shinier hell. Damn it.

With tears in his eyes half from the acid and half from unbridled elation, he locked eyes with the King. He gave the exhibited existence ly a dusty, decrepit stained glass window, cracked almost to the point of shattering, with the light of a sunrise shining through it for the first time in years.

So, this- this is how people are supposed to feel?

[janeway-lover]

*She nods, a large smile across her face. This time it is not because she is trying to calm him down, but purely because she is so happy to see him not in pain.*

Yes, this is - this is how things ought to be.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

It’s beautiful.

Streams of tears began to dampen his face as he marveled at the beauty of a life unburdened by constant pain, at the joy of a world he never thought he’d know. He danced and hopped and moved about the room with giddiness evicting the pain from his bones. Despite it all, thought, the voice in the back of his mind tried to hold him back. Surely, this was a one-time experience; a fleeting moment of joy that would only make his future worse. He mustn’t get too happy.

And, yet… oh, what the heck.

[xxuji]

birds cant serve cunt

[xxuji]

i bet you feel really stupid rn

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Would you be willing to help me with something?

Ulysses was sat in the middle of his newly upgraded hole-in-the-wall, staring pointedly and almost afraid at an array of very oxidized apple slices that were… sitting on the floor. He didn’t have plates. Dust was collecting around him and the slices. He’d clearly been at it for a while.

There was a decent delay between the hearing of the words, the processing of them, and the breaking of prolonged unblinking eye contact from his greatest enemy: food. He looked at the King, processed her presence with all the energy of a small crusty white dog, and seemingly didn’t freak out.

A few seconds passed.

…

AAGH!

He jumped back, feathers puffed up and tail unfurled. As he did, some part of his gangly silhouette caught on something and he somehow tripped backwards while sitting. Combining that with the head rush and dizziness that comes with malnutrition, it meant he hit his head on an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, let out a strangled squawk, and fell backwards into the wall, where he hit his head again. He put a hand to his head, squinting in pain as he sat in his jumbled, fallen pile.

Ow…

[janeway-lover]

Oh! Goodness, are you alright?

*She steps over to him - slowly! - and kneels down. She puts one hand against his forehead, as if checking his temperature. Her hand glows from healing.*

I didn't mean to startle you.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Many of the eyes on his tail were squinting or peeking open, almost comedically bruised. They had a lot of cartoonish comedy in them, those eyes. Some of them had dizzy spiralling pupils, and others gave the illusion of black eyes. The main set was beginning to peek open. He looked tired in a sort of disdainful way.

It’s- it’s alright.

He shut his eyes again as the warm glow began its distance-decaying spread from his forehead to his soul. This was metaphoric, of course, as he never had a soul haha what are you talking about, but the meaning remains firm.

So, er… why are you- why are you here?

[janeway-lover]

I wanted to see if you'd be willing to help me with something.

I've developed a demonic pain medication. It's still in its trial stage right now, and I'm hoping to get a few more data points. My sister thinks I should use rats, but that takes too long.

Would you be willing to try it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

The heat from the lightning dimly pulsed through the body of Ulysses, and his joints ached from the act of merely existing. He swallowed his pride and the phantom sense of a lump of flies in his mouth.

Of- of course. You’ve done so much for me.

[janeway-lover]

*She smiles. Do I even have to say that she's practically glowing?*

Oh, thank you. It's really such a help.

*She knows damn well that this damned bird is resistant to being helped, and is very purposefully playing her cards.*

Here. You will have to drink all of it, but I can get you something to wash it down with if need be.

*She pulls out a thermos - no longer steaming but still warm - and hands it to him. The liquid inside is green.*

[pissylittlebirdboy]

His neck folded in on itself, crown flattening against his head. He looked like a child with a fear of shots. Shots. Hah. If only it were that simple. So many nights in the cold, damp corners of warehouses. So much time spent praying that hastily-stitched wounds would not go into sepsis. Endless hours spent strapped to a chair while scientists feverishly generated data out of watching him writhe and scream and cry.

He wasn’t exactly fond of warm green substances and people giving the air of ‘I’m smiling to try and calm you down so you’ll do what I ask’. He also didn’t like things going down his throat—he could still feel little legs telling him he really needed to lose more weight if he ever wanted anyone thinking he wasn’t a colossal mound of shit.

I’m- I’m glad to help. Truly.

Her smile, brilliant and glowing and reminding him horribly of his mother’s, made him slightly less inclined to throw up. It was what an angel kissing his cheek might feel like, or something from one of those movie Beleth dragged him to their personal theatre to watch.

He stared at the thing like it was radioactive. He looked visibly displeased.

Mm. Looks… appetizing.

[janeway-lover]

*Something's wrong. She can tell that much. The only problem is, she doesn't know what's wrong.

Her smile falters slightly.*

Is...is everything alright? What is it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He hadn’t put his mask on quick enough. Bloody hell, what was he, an amateur? And of all the people to slip up infront of. Augh.

By the time he’d finished shaking out his neck, the smile that broke hearts and sold deals and, most importantly, told anyone and everyone that he was okay was on his face. It was a thing that had taken years of practiced, but it was practically a science at this point. It’s just acting. It’s just acting, Ulysses.

I’m alright, honest. Just… tasteless memories. You know.

Down the medicine, you coward. Show her the fearless hero. You’re Ulysses. Act like it.

Thus, he downed the whole thing in less than five seconds, shaking out his head and neck by the time he was done and showing her a triumphant smile. The panic and general clinical unwellness in his eyes was gone before he made eye contact. The liquid tasted of… home. Of a hearth’s warmth, of the feel of his mother’s robes. Of a place long gone, burnt to ash by the one who tasted it.

[janeway-lover]

*She pulls out her notebook, still wary of what Ulysses is upset over.*

Can you tell me how you feel?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

First shock, then wonder, then utter bewilderment washed over his face. Ulysses felt… not bad. For once. Holy shit.

Holy shit!

Ulysses lifted his arm, turning it over and then reversing, like a princess having been blessed with a dress made of stardust. What followed was a series of moving different parts of himself, staring in awe as his joints stopped aching and the seams on his feet became practically insensible, where he experienced that myth described to him that was ‘the normal amount of daily pain is no pain’. He began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh some more with pure jubilation and childlike wonder, till he began to cough and wheeze and throw up a little bit of stomach acid. Right. He was still in Hell. Just a shinier hell. Damn it.

With tears in his eyes half from the acid and half from unbridled elation, he locked eyes with the King. He gave the exhibited existence ly a dusty, decrepit stained glass window, cracked almost to the point of shattering, with the light of a sunrise shining through it for the first time in years.

So, this- this is how people are supposed to feel?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Would you be willing to help me with something?

Ulysses was sat in the middle of his newly upgraded hole-in-the-wall, staring pointedly and almost afraid at an array of very oxidized apple slices that were… sitting on the floor. He didn’t have plates. Dust was collecting around him and the slices. He’d clearly been at it for a while.

There was a decent delay between the hearing of the words, the processing of them, and the breaking of prolonged unblinking eye contact from his greatest enemy: food. He looked at the King, processed her presence with all the energy of a small crusty white dog, and seemingly didn’t freak out.

A few seconds passed.

…

AAGH!

He jumped back, feathers puffed up and tail unfurled. As he did, some part of his gangly silhouette caught on something and he somehow tripped backwards while sitting. Combining that with the head rush and dizziness that comes with malnutrition, it meant he hit his head on an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, let out a strangled squawk, and fell backwards into the wall, where he hit his head again. He put a hand to his head, squinting in pain as he sat in his jumbled, fallen pile.

Ow…

[janeway-lover]

Oh! Goodness, are you alright?

*She steps over to him - slowly! - and kneels down. She puts one hand against his forehead, as if checking his temperature. Her hand glows from healing.*

I didn't mean to startle you.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Many of the eyes on his tail were squinting or peeking open, almost comedically bruised. They had a lot of cartoonish comedy in them, those eyes. Some of them had dizzy spiralling pupils, and others gave the illusion of black eyes. The main set was beginning to peek open. He looked tired in a sort of disdainful way.

It’s- it’s alright.

He shut his eyes again as the warm glow began its distance-decaying spread from his forehead to his soul. This was metaphoric, of course, as he never had a soul haha what are you talking about, but the meaning remains firm.

So, er… why are you- why are you here?

[janeway-lover]

I wanted to see if you'd be willing to help me with something.

I've developed a demonic pain medication. It's still in its trial stage right now, and I'm hoping to get a few more data points. My sister thinks I should use rats, but that takes too long.

Would you be willing to try it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

The heat from the lightning dimly pulsed through the body of Ulysses, and his joints ached from the act of merely existing. He swallowed his pride and the phantom sense of a lump of flies in his mouth.

Of- of course. You’ve done so much for me.

[janeway-lover]

*She smiles. Do I even have to say that she's practically glowing?*

Oh, thank you. It's really such a help.

*She knows damn well that this damned bird is resistant to being helped, and is very purposefully playing her cards.*

Here. You will have to drink all of it, but I can get you something to wash it down with if need be.

*She pulls out a thermos - no longer steaming but still warm - and hands it to him. The liquid inside is green.*

[pissylittlebirdboy]

His neck folded in on itself, crown flattening against his head. He looked like a child with a fear of shots. Shots. Hah. If only it were that simple. So many nights in the cold, damp corners of warehouses. So much time spent praying that hastily-stitched wounds would not go into sepsis. Endless hours spent strapped to a chair while scientists feverishly generated data out of watching him writhe and scream and cry.

He wasn’t exactly fond of warm green substances and people giving the air of ‘I’m smiling to try and calm you down so you’ll do what I ask’. He also didn’t like things going down his throat—he could still feel little legs telling him he really needed to lose more weight if he ever wanted anyone thinking he wasn’t a colossal mound of shit.

I’m- I’m glad to help. Truly.

Her smile, brilliant and glowing and reminding him horribly of his mother’s, made him slightly less inclined to throw up. It was what an angel kissing his cheek might feel like, or something from one of those movie Beleth dragged him to their personal theatre to watch.

He stared at the thing like it was radioactive. He looked visibly displeased.

Mm. Looks… appetizing.

[janeway-lover]

*Something's wrong. She can tell that much. The only problem is, she doesn't know what's wrong.

Her smile falters slightly.*

Is...is everything alright? What is it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

He hadn’t put his mask on quick enough. Bloody hell, what was he, an amateur? And of all the people to slip up infront of. Augh.

By the time he’d finished shaking out his neck, the smile that broke hearts and sold deals and, most importantly, told anyone and everyone that he was okay was on his face. It was a thing that had taken years of practiced, but it was practically a science at this point. It’s just acting. It’s just acting, Ulysses.

I’m alright, honest. Just… tasteless memories. You know.

Down the medicine, you coward. Show her the fearless hero. You’re Ulysses. Act like it.

Thus, he downed the whole thing in less than five seconds, shaking out his head and neck by the time he was done and showing her a triumphant smile. The panic and general clinical unwellness in his eyes was gone before he made eye contact. The liquid tasted of… home. Of a hearth’s warmth, of the feel of his mother’s robes. Of a place long gone, burnt to ash by the one who tasted it.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Would you be willing to help me with something?

Ulysses was sat in the middle of his newly upgraded hole-in-the-wall, staring pointedly and almost afraid at an array of very oxidized apple slices that were… sitting on the floor. He didn’t have plates. Dust was collecting around him and the slices. He’d clearly been at it for a while.

There was a decent delay between the hearing of the words, the processing of them, and the breaking of prolonged unblinking eye contact from his greatest enemy: food. He looked at the King, processed her presence with all the energy of a small crusty white dog, and seemingly didn’t freak out.

A few seconds passed.

…

AAGH!

He jumped back, feathers puffed up and tail unfurled. As he did, some part of his gangly silhouette caught on something and he somehow tripped backwards while sitting. Combining that with the head rush and dizziness that comes with malnutrition, it meant he hit his head on an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, let out a strangled squawk, and fell backwards into the wall, where he hit his head again. He put a hand to his head, squinting in pain as he sat in his jumbled, fallen pile.

Ow…

[janeway-lover]

Oh! Goodness, are you alright?

*She steps over to him - slowly! - and kneels down. She puts one hand against his forehead, as if checking his temperature. Her hand glows from healing.*

I didn't mean to startle you.

[pissylittlebirdboy]

Many of the eyes on his tail were squinting or peeking open, almost comedically bruised. They had a lot of cartoonish comedy in them, those eyes. Some of them had dizzy spiralling pupils, and others gave the illusion of black eyes. The main set was beginning to peek open. He looked tired in a sort of disdainful way.

It’s- it’s alright.

He shut his eyes again as the warm glow began its distance-decaying spread from his forehead to his soul. This was metaphoric, of course, as he never had a soul haha what are you talking about, but the meaning remains firm.

So, er… why are you- why are you here?

[janeway-lover]

I wanted to see if you'd be willing to help me with something.

I've developed a demonic pain medication. It's still in its trial stage right now, and I'm hoping to get a few more data points. My sister thinks I should use rats, but that takes too long.

Would you be willing to try it?

[pissylittlebirdboy]

The heat from the lightning dimly pulsed through the body of Ulysses, and his joints ached from the act of merely existing. He swallowed his pride and the phantom sense of a lump of flies in his mouth.

Of- of course. You’ve done so much for me.

[janeway-lover]

*She smiles. Do I even have to say that she's practically glowing?*

Oh, thank you. It's really such a help.

*She knows damn well that this damned bird is resistant to being helped, and is very purposefully playing her cards.*

Here. You will have to drink all of it, but I can get you something to wash it down with if need be.

*She pulls out a thermos - no longer steaming but still warm - and hands it to him. The liquid inside is green.*

[pissylittlebirdboy]

His neck folded in on itself, crown flattening against his head. He looked like a child with a fear of shots. Shots. Hah. If only it were that simple. So many nights in the cold, damp corners of warehouses. So much time spent praying that hastily-stitched wounds would not go into sepsis. Endless hours spent strapped to a chair while scientists feverishly generated data out of watching him writhe and scream and cry.

He wasn’t exactly fond of warm green substances and people giving the air of ‘I’m smiling to try and calm you down so you’ll do what I ask’. He also didn’t like things going down his throat—he could still feel little legs telling him he really needed to lose more weight if he ever wanted anyone thinking he wasn’t a colossal mound of shit.

I’m- I’m glad to help. Truly.

Her smile, brilliant and glowing and reminding him horribly of his mother’s, made him slightly less inclined to throw up. It was what an angel kissing his cheek might feel like, or something from one of those movie Beleth dragged him to their personal theatre to watch.

He stared at the thing like it was radioactive. He looked visibly displeased.

Mm. Looks… appetizing.