[witchdoctrines]

𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃. ( i will do a nice edit later i am simply drowning at work right now )

ind. pri. fandomless prophet, heavily affiliated with @witchhaunts.

carrd.

LORE . This blog is intertwined with rowena robasdan as written by the wonderful fey. Their lore is instrumental to the world building of this shared universe and the relationship between Rowena & Em carries across through most timelines as they relate to the canon of this blog. All of this to say, not only is it fantastic writing, their blog is also very heavily interconnected with mine.

WRITING . I tend to prefer longer threads, heavy plotting, and telling ongoing stories. I will occasionally write shorter threads but they're really not where my heart lies as I find they tend to fizzle out rather quickly for me if not expanded upon. Like most people on this site, I am mutuals only, which is to say if we follow each other I would love to write with you.

CONTENT . The content of this blog across most timelines and verses includes difficult and uncomfortable subject matter including but not limited to: past child abuse, domestic violence, struggles with autonomy, disordered eating, mental illness, injury, and other triggers typical to the canon they exist within. I do my best to tag all standard triggers with Trigger //. If I miss something, or you need something particular tagged please feel free to let me know.

SHIPPING . I am not only open to shipping in all forms, platonic, romantic, and undefined, I am enthusiastic about it. I love to build complex and intensive relationships through plotting and writing. give me dynamics I can sink my teeth into and I will love you always and forever.

MUN . I'm Julian ( they/them or he/him ) , 29 CST. I work full time and as of writing this just finished a cross country move. Combine that with a generally chaotic life and I can be quite slow at times. Typically I am still very active on discord during these times.

CREDITS . my psd is twister by ironrevolverpsds, & my carrd made by jaynedits. all other edits are of my own creation.

[witchdoctrines]

hi. i miss writing so much. i want to get back into doing it more, so like this and I'll come at you so we can try to do some writing.

[witchdoctrines]

i'm finally planning to return to tumblr, i did actually miss this place. i'm also about to be super vulnerable on main below the cut, the gist of it being just thank you all for being here. even if you, the person reading this, and i have never interacted beyond mutually following each other.

today is my birthday, and i'm officially turning 30 years old in about five hours. i cannot put into words just how fucking relieved i've been about putting my 20s behind me, but in all honesty how terrified i've been. i never thought i would live to see my 30s. this is all uncharted territory for me, and i've talked a big game about being ready to be done with my 20s but even this past week when i've been horribly sick I've had this creeping consistent fear of what if something happens. what if i accidentally take too much cough medicine by accident, what if i fall on the stairs, what if i end up in the hospital again because my lungs are throwing a fit.

none of those things happened. and i woke up this morning expecting all that anxiety would be gone, but there was still that lingering sense of well you've still got hours to go. hours where i had to commute to work (uneventful), have breakfast (I did briefly choke on my coffee but it was just a wrong pipe situation), and then... I just sit quietly in my office until the end of my shift. and by then i'll be 30.

i don't expect any magical shift to happen between now and then, the world will keep spinning, it will still be weirdly warm for a december day in minnesota. all that will happen, if i will have outlived everything i thought would kill me by now, and a few things i knew wouldn't but certainly felt like they would in the moment. that's not nothing. in fact to a younger me who didn't think they would make it, that's everything. that's my wife, my friends, my niece growing up, and me. who has turned out nothing at all like i thought i would when i was 15. or 20. or 25. i don't always love myself the way i know that i should, the way that i would have wanted to love myself when i was young and didn't think i would make it this far, but i lived. and that matters more than any idealized vision i had for myself and my life.

and maybe you're like me, and you're reading this, and you too had that hard line in your head you couldn't see past. maybe you're on the other side of it now, or maybe you're still reaching for yours. if that's you, you're not alone. and i wish you happiness, and growth, and more than anything peace for that thing in your head and your chest that ticks for every second that you get closer. it's the season of yuletide, and the first full day of winter. the days only get longer and brighter from here. i hope the sunlight illuminates your darkest days, and i hope that you find warmth in friends and family this holiday season. you are loved, you are wanted, and this world needs you.

my dearest wish today, is that you surpass everything you thought you never would. i hope if you hear the tick, it goes quiet. i hope your holidays are not only what you want, but what you need this year. know that wherever you go, whatever you do, you have my love. i hope you feel that love, and that it gives you hope if you don't have any to spare. we could all do with a brighter day ahead.

[witchdoctrines]

by the time emilie is on her way back from preschool drop off, she's convinced herself that the events of the previous day were a fever dream. it wouldn't be that difficult to check for evidence of the dozens of photos hails had insisted on, but she's already decided that it had to have been a group delusion because it makes more sense than anything else. at least, that's the plan until she's about to pull up to the house and spots a regrettably familiar figure in her driveway. it's only @storiesbreathed, and not all three of them, which feels somewhat less intimidating. a feeling immediately followed by questioning why exactly she should find a pop group intimidating.

when she pulls up to the curb, she doesn't get out immediately. chucking loose detritus into her bag as she slips her phone out to send a potentially ill advised text.

[ sms: l. foster ] : There's a pop star in my driveway. [ sms: l. foster ] : What the fuck do I do if there's a pop star in my driveway?

there isn't an immediate response, not that she particularly expected one, although it would have been nice. if she had to guess, whenever lex does see it, she's going to think it's a joke. but then again, there's that folder of pictures that she's pointedly trying not to look at. proof enough for both of them. swinging her bag up onto her shoulder, she tries to wipe off any potential expression of let's get this shit over with, squares her shoulders, and makes an effort to be personable in spite of her confusion as she walks up the drive.

❛ hi... i.... i wasn't expecting to be back. ❜

[criticalfai1ure]

“ try me. ” he speaks before he can stop himself. before her challenge has any amendments, and he is simply being unfair. everyone has their secrets, right? it's not like he's been entirely forthcoming as to how he'd ended up a smouldered spaceman at her feet or why he almost freezes whenever he's seen jayne.

max juts his chin forward, stopping himself from outright shaking his head. he can't let it go. he cannot continue to sit idly by while chris gets away with hurting her, and he appreciates that she knows as much. but he follows her gaze to the staircase, curiosity wrinkling with concern across his brow. “ i can't promise it will be successful, but i will try my best. ”

[witchdoctrines]

❛ before i show you anything, i need you to keep something in mind. this isn't just about me, and it's not just about my kid either, it's... it has to do with what jayne and i do. ❜ she releases his arm, failing to meet his gaze, instead looking down the hall towards her makeshift workshop. she tries not to let herself shake when she moves towards it, fishes the keys out of her pocket. locked more so for the safety of the toddler than any need for privacy. a carefully curated space, the only place in this house that feels like she has any true control over, but even it is infected by the pervasive fear as she gets on her knees next to the bottom shelf. lifting the tarp away from it, the contents is revealed to be a number of heavy duty flashlights each wrapped in fluorescent yellow tape anywhere that it won't impede the use of the thing. before she rises, she slips a lanyard around her left wrist, cinches it tight enough to bite into the skin, before retrieving a second and retreating from the room.

em doesn't bother locking the door, again, not yet. instead she focuses on keeping her nerve as she heads for the stairwell. against all hope, she doesn't want it to work this time. she wants desperately to be proven wrong, to be shown there is nothing to fear in the hallway but a ghost story. an overactive imagination. that she can let the guard fall finally. she doesn't expect that to happen at all as she veers left into the hallway that leads to the master bedroom, stopping when she reaches the light switch.

❛there are ground rules--- and i don't expect you to understand them, but you have to follow them like your life depends on it. ❜ she turns the first flashlight away from both of them, flicks it on with a heavy click and the already lit hallway explodes in a searing white light. ❛ first rule, don't turn off the light, don't drop it, if you have to choose between me and the flashlight, pick the flashlight. it's better for both of us. ❜ the second flashlight clicks on, impossibly bright, also turned away very intentionally from the both of them that she offers to max.

❛ second rule, try not to let go of me either. i don't care how, just try not to lose contact--- it'll be easier for both of us to get out if we don't have to go searching for each other. third. remember to breathe. it's... disorienting. if you can't trust your senses, try to trust mine. ❜

[buffysummers]

F•R•I•E•N•D•S (1994-2004)

[criticalfai1ure]

he doesn't know what he wants to do — only that he can't continue to sit by and watch. he's put together enough that his moral sense of duty is clawing at the doors, insisting on its release. for his sake, it's probably best that this realisation hits him when they're alone.

❝ emilie, ❞ he bites down, teeth grit in an effort to play at diplomacy. ( he's never been great at the politicking that comes with a saviour complex, that much is clear ). the worst part? max knows she knows best. knows the only reason someone is calling him max is because red went and got himself killed — and maybe having that separation from the man who’d been spaced is what he needs, now. ❝ forgive me, ❞ he breathes, ❝ i’m trying to understand, but it doesn’t make any goddamned sense. it's hurting you to be here, why do you put up with it – him? ❞

[witchdoctrines]

her grip loosens, an attempt at softness. the forgiveness he asks for. ❛ you wouldn't believe me if i told you. there's no bite to the statement. only a quiet resignation. it isn't meant to be a challenge, but she already knows it will be. ' ...but you're not going to let this go, are you? ❜

emilie's gaze moves from max to the foyer, warily eyeing the staircase as if it might come alive. ❛ if i show you why, if i try to answer your questions, will you leave it be ? or at least try to ? ❜

[witchdoctrines]

i did end up making a blog for someone from s5 of you, given that there are spoilers, I'll only follow people who like this post for the time being.

[feyrietales]

@witchdoctrines

[ UNDRESS ] sender helps receiver remove an article of clothing or jewelry - wildcard, make this as horny or not horny as you like <3

LUCA NEVER CARED THAT MUCH ABOUT CHRISTMAS. while his parents tried to make the holiday about family , but once he'd been near permanently situated with his cousins in new york &. his father took more time for the business , they were rarely ever whole. his mother , though ? she loved the time she got with her sons , so now that it's just down to the tow of them , luca makes sure to return her enthusiasm from all those years. at least it's been easier for him to feel it during mass. even with one of his sins sitting in the pew next to him.

he expected the day to be hard for em. she held herself together well , accepted her presents with a believable gratitude , but he knows her well enough to understand these are just motions. not as hollow as he thought they'd be , though. every glance he'd stolen &. every look they shared hangs in his mind now as they sit together , alone , everyone but the watchmen gone to bed for the evening. it feels good. nice. pleasant. comfortable. something he hasn't fully felt with her in the last year. or rather , she hasn't with him. both , really. &. whose fault is that ?

luca is pulled from his thoughts by her movement closer &. it draws the ghost of a smile. it is accompanied by a slight raised brow as she reaches for him , hand closing around the knot of his tie to gently tug it undone. there's something else different in the action than it has been before &. he lightly takes her wrist with the hand not holding a wine glass before she can pull away. he looks at em intently &. tilts his head just barely to the side in silent question.

casual intimacy.

[witchdoctrines]

it's katherine's second christmas, and the first thing she thought of when she woke up. john's first, but katherine's second, and the second that she's missed. the twin emotions of resentment and guilt clawed their way up from the pit of her belly from the second she woke and she knew it has to be today. it took longer to get dressed, as it usually did on holidays, but she had to check three times to be sure that the gun was secure, within reach, and loaded. the safety had to be turned off, much to her chagrin, it feels like an accident waiting to happen but before she could let herself get caught in the thoughts of how someone might be hurt she reminded herself exactly what the intention was.

faking it was easier than she expected, the lightening of a heavy load. it ends today, one way or another it's almost over and with that horror comes a sickening relief. the laughter came easier, as did the almost smiles, and the touches less nauseating than they've been in longer than she cared to think about. that doesn't mean she didn't have to choke back tears and panic when she placed john down to sleep. he wouldn't remember this day, no matter how it went, but she still pressed a silent kiss to his forehead and made her apologies as he drifted away into what she hoped was a dreamless sleep. she hoped the gunshot won't wake him when the time comes.

then comes the wine. the only saving grace for the tightening knot in her chest, heavy and heady and not enough to get tipsy but enough to loosen the locking in her joints. the parts of her that still want to rewrite the story to end any other way than this because the love is still there, as it always has been. dampened, but never gone. instead a smouldering thing that harms her more than she ever wants to speak about. she can't remember what they're talking about, too caught up in thoughts of what comes next, but her mouth moves on without her, the conversation has always been just that easy with him.

without fanfare, emilie moves the glass of wine from her left to her right, a less secure hold but still managing not to spill as she takes a sip before she makes the decision. not quite the point of no return, but close. flirtation with death, though she's not entirely sure whose it will be as she tugs the knot at his throat. it isn't the first time that she's adjusted his clothing, but it feels different--- and she isn't the only one to know it as he catches her wrist in his grip. studying his expression, the faint smile, this feels like the moment that she stands on the cliff's edge, and while she knows the ground behind her is stable, safe, there is no way to go but forward. with that in mind, she sets down the wine glass on the side table managing a mostly stable landing so that she can brace her palm against it. the wood is cooling, a grounding force before she launches herself off the metaphorical ledge. with only a second more of hesitation, her pulse races and she leans in, pressing a light kiss to his lips.

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 (𝐞𝐩𝐬. 𝟏-𝟒) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue  prompts  taken from episodes 1 - 4  of max's  the  penguin  (2024),  created  by  lauren  lefranc.  feel  free  to  edit  and  change  as  you  seem  fit.. )

❛ i see you've made yourself at home. ❜

❛ so this new deal you got going... maybe i can help. ❜

❛ you know what i like most about you? you are who you are. you couldn't change if you tried. ❜

❛ you got a girl? good looking guy like you... ❜

❛ can you imagine? to be remembered like that? revered? ❜

❛ you really think people’d make a float of your dumb face and march it down the street, chanting your goddamn name? ❜

❛ you messed with the wrong fucking guy on the wrong fucking night. ❜

❛ you’re gonna do everything i say. or else i’ll murder you and, uh... anyone you care about. ❜

❛ what do you think of this? it’s a little air freshener. aqua paradise. you smell it? ❜

❛ we used to go there every day in the summer. you know, we’d mix the flavors for a suicide. you ever mix the flavors? ❜

❛ i ain’t trying to get in your business, but... i need an alibi. ❜

❛ i asked for extra pickles, and they give me two? so what, a normal amount of pickles is one? makes no goddamn sense. ❜

❛ there’s a nice sunrise behind you. you should take a look. ❜

❛ i could help you with whatever it is. whatever you need, whatever it is, all right? ❜

❛ well, maybe it’d be useful, keeping you around. for now. ❜

❛ but if you step out of line just once, i swear to god, i’ll gut you like a fucking fish. do you understand? ❜

❛ all right, listen, if i don’t come out... nah, i’ll be fine. you’ll be fine. it’s gonna be fine. ❜

❛ you know, maybe you don’t like me. that’s fine. i’m an acquired taste. ❜

❛ i’ve been rehabilitated. ❜

❛ you’ve really moved up in the world, haven’t you? ❜

❛ are you nervous? i’d hate for you to feel nervous with me. ❜

❛ you know, people underestimate you, but not me. i’ve always known you were capable of more. ❜

❛ this city is meant to be yours, sweetheart. what are you gonna do to get it? ❜

❛ the world wasn’t built for guys like us. that’s why we gotta take whatever we decide is ours. ❜

❛ but i gotta know. no bullshit. can i count on you to pull through? ❜

❛ i know who you are. i know what you are. i don’t work with people whose loyalty is for sale. ❜

❛ i’m gonna run this goddamn city. and i want you in on it. ❜

❛ i'm not safe. i'm home. ❜

❛ very, very convenient that, all of a sudden, you’re on my side. ❜

❛ you are scrambling for whatever dignity you have left and you’re hoping i will save you. ❜

❛ rough night, detective? ❜

❛ i refuse to let these old fucking men push me aside again, like i’m nothing. so, i’m going to take from them now. ❜

❛ you in? ❜

❛ let's dance. ❜

❛ you act like wanting more is a bad thing, but, i mean, don’t you want a better life than this? ❜

❛ are we, uh, kinda... partners now? ❜

❛ i mean, you fucked up. huge. but you learned, right? ❜

❛ whaddaya think the new clothes are for? you’re my guy. can’t have you lookin’ like a schmuck. ❜

❛ and from now on, you want something, you ask for it. ❜

❛ how’s anyone supposed know your worth unless you tell ’em, huh? ❜

❛ man of the hour, i was just thinking about you... ❜

❛ you do anything stupid, i’ll sense it. ❜

❛ that’s why you’re here. you seem to know everybody’s business. so, now’s your time to shine. ❜

❛ you’ve got a good thing going here. i’m really happy for you. ❜

❛ i know you’re not right in the head. i mean, that’s pretty damn clear. but i’m not scared of you. ❜

❛ you think i’d come here empty-handed? come on, we both know that if i ever truly left you hanging, there'd be a bullet between my eyes. ❜

❛ i got a real opportunity for you here, but it’s kinda hard to focus with a gun pointed at my face. ❜

❛ you got fight in you. you gotta let it out. ❜

❛ you’re fun at a card game, or over drinks, i’ll give you that. but people don’t keep you around because they think you’re smart. and they sure as shit don’t trust you. ❜

❛ i wouldn’t ask you to do this if i didn’t know you could handle it. i believe in you, kid. ❜

❛ i can't tell who wants this move. me or you. ❜

❛ i want this for you. ❜

❛ what you did to me. was it worth it? did you get everything that you wanted? ❜

❛ you wanna go, what are you waiting for? fuckin’ go. ❜

❛ you coulda left whenever you wanted. but you chose to stay. how about you ask yourself why. ❜

❛ i fucked you over. that what you wanna hear? ❜

❛ i’m fuckin’ sorry for everything that’s happened to you. ❜

❛ you meant something to me. still do. ❜

❛ i don’t know where to go from here. i don’t know how to trust you. ❜

❛ you need a cigarette, take the edge off? ❜

❛ a lobotomy couldn’t take the edge off. ❜

❛ when the time comes, i want you to take my place. i want you to run this family... if that’s something that would interest you. ❜

❛ they know you're mine. they'll do as i say. ❜

❛ why would you do this now? picking away at old wounds... you know how it upsets me. ❜

❛ you still haven’t told me what you want for your birthday. ❜

❛ i don’t need your advice. i don’t care what you think. no one does. you are my driver. that is all you are. so stop talking and drive. ❜

❛ listen, i get that you’re angry, you know. but i was just doing my job, looking out for you. ❜

❛ i’m not gonna make it in a place like that. i’m gonna die in there. ❜

❛ it’s okay to be scared. i was scared at first, too, but it’s not so bad here. you get used to the noises. ❜

❛ a woman beat the shit out of me while everyone stood around and watched. so, yeah, i had an incident. ❜

❛ i don’t know how to convince you i’m sane when you’ve already made up your mind about me. ❜

❛ i told you i’m fucking innocent. ❜

❛ i’m gonna get you something to eat. if you wanna get cleaned up, there’s a towel and a change of clothes in the guest bath upstairs. ❜

❛ i trusted him... when everything in my body told me not to. i should have killed him when i had the chance. ❜

❛ you abandoned me. ❜

❛ i left because i had to. because i could. i know you didn’t have that choice, but I’m here now. ❜

❛ you don’t have to pretend with me. ❜

❛ i haven’t forgotten, you know? the way you looked at me. so curious. ❜

❛ what did it feel like? to get to watch a person unravel? and now, you’re numbing yourself as punishment. ❜

❛ they think i'm broken. i'm not broken. ❜

❛ i'm not the one who's sick. and neither are you. the world is. ❜

❛ for the first time, i have hope. ❜

❛ to new beginnings. cent’anni. ❜

[witchdoctrines]

i'm not prepared for how utterly batshit season five is going to get but i am locked in for the final season of you and will probably watch all of it tomorrow after the preview tonight. anyone else who's planning on watching it feel free to let me know so i don't shout spoilers at anyone who's not going to be able to do it for a minute.

[feyrietales]

GALE LAYS ON HIS SIDE TO WATCH HER QUIET MOVEMENTS. if he's being completely honest the sight is as much about the very notion of being in her presence &. the affection he feels as the... appreciation of it too. when he attempts to draw her back to him , he raises his arms in a waiting embrace , hoping to feel her warmth again.

❝ no , i don't believe he would , which i also believe adds to the compelling nature of my argument. ❞ he reaches just a bit further in the small space to brush against her arm , the closest part of em he can reach. ❝ stay with me ? just a little while longer , at least ? ❞

[witchdoctrines]

when his hand brushes against her arm she stills, her heart fluttering for a moment. is that what this is meant to be like ? she looks at him over her shoulder, the faintest hint of a smile as he opens his arms to her. maybe it's not so bad to stay. abandoning her search for the missing trousers, she slips back into the open space, still warm but not as warm as it had been when she left, and tucks herself up against him.

❛ i can stay a bit longer--- at the very least. though i'm starting to wonder why i have my own tent at all. ❜ she says, her tone gentle, teasing. she presses a kiss to the side of the edge of his jaw before settling back into a comfortable position. ❛ you were right, it's much warmer in your arms. ❜

[feyrietales]

@witchdoctrines

' i guess there are no rules anymore about what a person can do to another person. ' @ anyone involved in peaky blinders. she's gotta watch out her resentment is showing just a little bit.

SHE'S NOT SURE WHY SHE CAME TO SEE HER. fuck , she's not even sure why rowena let her. that's not really true. she knows why as more &. more of her body clenched on the drive out of the city , as she itched to grab a cigarette several times over ( her sister — in — law's no smoking in her car rule is a bitch ). ada is certain granting her request is a punishment &. she should have known better. a shelby move through &. through.

❝ em , ❞ she pleads , cringing at the tone immediately. sorry feels underwhelmingly hollow &. she's too defensive at the comment to take the high road. ❝ you had to know how it felt , looked. the vote was inevitable for both of you. ❞

the presence near the car feels like a pyre with her burning gaze even out of earshot. it makes ada shift in her seat , tighten the grip of her own hands against each other. maybe she should have stayed gone too. it's not the same but at least she wouldn't have to live with her hesitation in the fallout.

mockingjay.

[witchdoctrines]

it's hard not to be on the defensive, even though em agreed to the meeting she doesn't know why she did. maybe it's that constant urge to mend the bridges even as the shelbys keep swinging hatchets and pouring gasoline. her mouth twitches, and her she tries not to take it too personally. tries to bury the hurt of what exactly was said and done in the aftermath.

❛ you would have done the same for your children. ❜ it's not a kind thing to say, however true it may be. it's the sort of thing that's meant to be left silent, and buried, but it burns in her chest like a coal. it can't be unsaid, can't be unheard, and she looks away when she says it unable to fully burn away the shame.

❛ i don't think that's what you came here for, or if it is absolution, i'd recommend a priest. ❜ she adjusts the child against her shoulder, stirring in his sleep but not yet awoken. she's hardly set him down since the vote, and who could really blame her? even as she recovers from the injuries of the would be execution of michael she can't put john down for more than a few minutes outside of sleep. ❛ ...i don't blame you for it, if you're wondering that, ada. you made the choices that you could live with, and i made mine. i'm not asking you to grovel for forgiveness--- but you cannot tell me if made to choose, a single thing that i've done would have been so black and white. ❜

[feyrietales]

@witchdoctrines

' please don't look at me like that.' okay hear me out: very shortly after she admits to the neurotoxin. is he angry? is it pity ? is it sadness? frustration? doesn't fucking matter em is feeling extremely vulnerable right now and does not like what she's had to admit.

❝ DON'T LOOK AT YOU LIKE THAT ? EMILIE , YOU'RE POISONING YOURSELF ! ❞ he shouldn't be shouting , it's not fair nor helpful , but he can't help it in the moment. it's idiotic , it's foolish , it's dangerous , it's... entirely understandable in a way astarion hates to admit. the spawn would be a hypocrite if he thought he wouldn't do the same to never step foot in cazador's manor again.

he lets out a frustrated growl that ends in a sigh. ❝ are you certain this is the only way ? your... patron can't do anything ? rowena hasn't found — no , of course not , because you haven't told her. there's a greater chance of the hells freezing over than her not openly scouring every tome imaginable for a different solution. ❞ he pauses to eye her over. ❝ we will have to tell her. everyone , really , but she &. gale would never forgive us if we didn't. it will end in chaos but in the interim... what can i do for you ? ❞

damn his recently rediscovered better nature.

please please please.

[witchdoctrines]

flinching, she cannot meet the vampire's gaze. the guilt for the deception and for being unable to deliver on the promises made months prior feels particularly pointed now. the instinct to tuck into herself flares and she struggles not to bend to it in the moment. it helps nothing. she swallows it like the urge to keep this a secret, like the neurotoxin itself. ❛...i already wrote to her, after it happened. but i knew the answer before she replied. the cost to break it the first time was a soul, and seeing as i have little else to offer....❜

the statement hangs in the air unfinished, a tragedy in the making. she would rather leave it on that unresolved note but the truth now out in the open, emilie struggles with the effort not to choke on it. it's hard to stare the truth in the face, and harder still to meet astarion's eye in the moment. ❛ the only things you can do right now, are things that you won't. that i can't ask of you, and you couldn't if i did--- i understand why they need to know, but we both know that very few are going to take it as well. i took this into my own hands knowing that there was too much at stake for anyone to be distracted. you don't agree with it, and if i were in your shoes i probably wouldn't either, but i've done what i need to.❜

finally, she looks at him, and her left hand delves into her satchel seeking out the vial by touch alone. she produces a vessel in the shape of a large shard, approximately the size of her palm. a golden liquid suspended in pale blue glass, approximately three quarters full. ❛ i wrote to someone after it happened, a companion i traveled with long before all of this, and asked him for help. this was the best he could do without being here. the dosing is difficult. especially to do alone, the measurements are precise--- the side effects are my own doing, not blackwell's. he did his best with the information provided from across the world. i would expect nothing less. ❜ she looks at it for a moment before offering it to astarion. ❛ ...i can't promise you i won't take it again, i... this hasn't been an easy choice. i know that they need to know, but i hope that you understand keeping this from all of you wasn't malicious.❜

[feyrietales]

IT TAKES EVERYTHING IN HIM NOT TO SHOUT WHEN SHE HESITATES. he's already going to desecrate this floor of this church with her blood. god is already watching them both there's no need to draw his attention. there's a moment he wonders if he'd be struck down were there any righteousness in god's plan. he hasn't been kind to either of them. he won't forgive them either. if she does not want to face her death then that is her choice.

he's been thinking about this day for so long. the anticipation of it was different than any other revenge he's known. before , everything was white hot anger , a roiling , violence passion beneath his calm facade. he was luca changretta , gentleman gangster. his anger was righteous &. no one could see it coming until it was too late. up until this moment it felt the same. he's always wanted the shelbys dead , &. she is one of them , she killed him. but for the first time in years there is silence in his mind. it is not the cold clarity of victory achieved , enemies vanquished. it's just cold. when emilie moves the feeling slowly spills into the rest of his body ending at the tips of his extremities as she finally faces him.

the ice in his body cracks to slice open every old wound until he is sure he's bleeding out from the inside. there is blood in his lungs , his stomach , filling up his mouth , his ears , everything in a rush. it all pours out of him when there is nowhere else for it to go &. he is reminded of the fact this plan will likely end in two more candles on the altar. if there's anyone left to place them there for them.

he isn't sure what he was expecting her to look like really. a ghost of her former self wracked with guilt ? a snarling demon after nothing more than his end ? a warm embrace welcoming him home ? she is none of those. she's just em. hold , yes , more worn , but still em. somehow that is worse than anything he imagined.

❝ you survived. ❞

the barest spark lights in his chest &. it spurs him onward. luca presses the gun a millimeter closer , hardened his features against the onslaught of emotion. he's already closed up his heart once to hurt her in one of the worst ways he could. he can do it again.

❝ if you want to call it that. ❞ he's still speaking just above a murmur , like he is making a prayer of his own. ❝ i would say i'm sorry about arthur but... can't tell a lie here. ❞

fight me. lie to me. insult me. hurt me. make this as easy as it was for you.

[witchdoctrines]

when the gun presses harder against her skull, her eyes involuntarily close for a moment, the faintest wince at the pain, but she does not flinch from it. forces her eyes open again to look directly at the man holding it. she doesn't want to believe he can do it, but she didn't believe that she could either. not until it was already done. this is what they were always meant to be, on two sides of a war that neither of them sparked. this is what happens when enemy lines become the tether that keeps you held to this earth.

she looks away at the mention of arthur, tries not to let her shoulders tense beyond the momentary reaction to hearing his name. in another world she would tell him what happened that day. what it felt like to hold him as he laid dying, the final request not to reach for the phone but to stay. the one time luca wouldn't have encouraged her to leave. ❛ i wouldn't want you to lie--- but i understand the honesty isn't for my benefit. ❜

tensing her jaw, she bites down on her tongue to stop herself from saying anymore. it's hard not to slip back into the habit of the sort of truth that leaves bruises. eight years apart, and she still remembers how it felt to lie that day, how much truth she had to weave into every action just to make it through the motions required. an apology would be honesty, but it would also be a lie. in the time that's passed she's had too many nights lying awake replaying every second of christmas day in her mind. too many christmases with her head pressed against a door, her finger on a phantom trigger. would she do it again? every time it clicks. every time she returns home. every time she is full of resentment and grief and horror that cannot be contained--- but she has her children. she has them back, and hailey may barely speak to her and aj has started to gather the tradition of celebratory migraines on holidays--- but she got to see them again. got to hold them. to experience kitty's third christmas and every one after. every christmas, luca's blood paints her bedroom walls, no matter how often she tries to find another color.

the fingers of her cooperative hand curl in, pressing hard into the palm as if trying to white knuckle a non existent gun. and she knows that rowena has regretted giving it to her. that this entire dance could have been subverted if em had only waited a few hours more. a few minutes. that maybe the scene would have been less grisly, and arthur wouldn't have had to wash the flaking blood off her skin what felt like an eternity later. a world away then, and a world away now. would he be wiping the blood from her face in hell ? would tommy be scrubbing it from the stone in this one ? she tries to imagine him on his knees with a cloth, finally managing some small act of redemption for all that he's done. the final repayment of a life debt owed. she can't. not even with the muzzle of a gun pressed into her skull and the embodiment of the vengeance that he has never been able to release holding it there.

emilie had tried, god had she ever fucking tried. for all of them, for tommy, and luca, and sometimes though she is loathe to admit it, for herself. of course this is how it ends. there is no peace for the peacekeeper, there are only the snarling mouths of the animals kept at bay no longer satiated by promises of a bloodless battle. her eyes close again as she turns her head in shame, and she does not rise to the mention of her husband but to the presumption of what is to come. ❛ if you leave here with aims for the family---- i ask that you spare hailey. i know that she is no longer a child and that i have no right to ask, but she's mine, and the kids have lost enough for one year. ❜

[witchdoctrines]

just popping in to say fey us a wonderful person and i will defend them with my life. ❤️

[feyrietales]

HE ISN'T SURPRISED IN THE SLIGHTEST BY HER ANSWER. of course she doesn't feel comforted. he isn't sure she's ever felt it in her entire life. there may have been moments with her loved ones ; her husband , her children , her goddamned sister in law. maybe even him. but how long did they last ? did she even feel like she earned them ? deserved them ? did any of them ever convince her that she did ? ( she does. )

he watches her movements not because he believes she will fight back , a fox with it's leg caught in a trap willing to gnaw its own leg off ( not that he believes she wouldn't were this someone else somewhere else ) , but because it feels like evidence. of what he can't quite parse. he wants it to be guilt , wants to know beyond her prayer for his soul that this has eaten her the way it has eaten him. the way he knows he will not be able to tolerate the same. it should make him angrier , vindicated , fucking SOMETHING other than hollowed out to what passes for his soul.

em asks her question &. he stares into the back of her head like he can see her thoughts as they race. the luca before would have placed a hand there , brushed his thumb through her hair. the luca after , the luca now ? he's not so sure. he can't even stop the way his voice sounds soft as he responds :

❝ yes , em , i'm real. i'm here. ❞

he slowly slides the gun up the length of her spine , brushes along her neck , then stops exactly where he would have placed his hand before. somehow it feels just as tender.

❝ look at me. ❞ please.

[witchdoctrines]

she tries not to read into it, the perception of any softness in his voice. an echo of a memory, standing in a church with his hand on the base of her spine. the reminder that she does not have to accept it, but that she is worthy. a tone of reassurance she had not realized she relied on so heavily until it was gone. she thinks of his voice that day often, of the bread and wine, and how she wonders if he would have regretted that if he had known. if the act of sacrament can become sacrilegious in hindsight.

when he says her name it's a struggle to breathe, to not begin sobbing again. for the many times she has asked that question, she has never been given a response. and the silence in itself she often found was worse. like holding his corpse by the shoulders and shaking him in an effort to wake him there has never been a response until now and it tightens her chest with the pent up emotions that she still refuses to release. a thousand questions, a hundred match sticks, the single sharpest sound she has ever known when the trigger clicked home. nothing has ever been the same, nor will it be.

as the gun traces up each vertebrae, emilie must resist the urge to lean into it the way she would his hand. the casualness of intimacy that she has long missed. this is the closest she has been to him since that night and even with the knowledge that there is no world in which they leave this place whole and in tact she cannot help but wish for the respite of his hand. the respite she has not earned, now standing vigil with peace, anger, and will. a gallery of saints of the unwilling or unable to change. the statue of everyone she has ever loved and lost, of every poor choice, and every moment that plays in the moments of solitude she finds.

he asks, and she wants to listen. wants to make it up to him in this small way. i tried to kill you the least i can do is look you in the eye. for the first and only time since they have met, she hesitates. even with the gun heavy in bloodless hands, she had not hesitated. not when she pressed a kiss to his brow and said what she thought to be her final goodbye, and not caught in the crossfire of a gang war she had been wholly opposed to from the beginning. their story as it had been told, has never been one marked with hesitation. there was never meant to be anything but brutal and unflinching honesty but here she cannot help but take pause. not for his sake, but her own selfish knowledge that if she looks at him now and the face she sees is the one that has haunted her for the better part of a decade. the one painted on the back of her eyelids as vividly as the day she painted it onto the wall of his home.

eyes open to the church floor, and it is selfish not to look but she wants to say it. that she doesn't want to. that this is pulling the trigger for the second time and she does not have the strength or the will--- but that would be unfair. if he has torn himself from the grave, from the garden of saints that grows ever thicker in her mind to stand in this church, would she forgive herself if she laid dying without giving him that satisfaction ? even with all that has passed between them, in time, and blood, and wounds in equal measures, emilie does not believe he will force her to look. that if she spoke the words, painful as it would be, there would be an acceptance of the fact. it would not spare her, anymore than looking will.

her hands shake, reaching up to push the hair away from her face where it has fallen, and as she lifts her head she can only see the glow of the candles that have not been extinguished. were it anyone else, she would bloody her hands with the glass shards of the memorial and done everything in her power to spare her children the pain of another loss. a final gift from arthur. but it's not someone else, it's luca, and he has made a simple request, and if her name is carved onto a bullet it has been well earned as she turns her head finally to look at him. her face still tear stained with more threatening to spill out as finally she sees him as she was meant to. as she has wanted to these past eight years. bloodless and whole in the dim light of morning.

she wants to scream as much as she wants to sob, but she does not beg for his forgiveness the way that she thought she might. does not break into tearful apology or violent threats. emilie will not beg him for her life, they both know that the conclusion is already forgone and her mouth moves of its own accord, the tremor in her voice unmistakable. ❛ you survived. ❜ it feels more to her like a prayer than a sigh of relief. as if she still can't quite accept that this is real. that he is standing before her and she is glad for a moment that she isn't standing or she might have collapsed. in spite of the instinct to reach for him, to feel something more tangible than the gun, she places her hands back in her lap once again, as if to thank god for the acceptance of the prayer. an angel of death, after all, is nothing if not a messenger.