#delirim

@cyborg0109 asked: 

Do you have anything for whumpee turned caretaker and whumper turned whumpee?

Sure: (For brevity: WTC - Whumpee turned Caretaker. WTW - Whumper turned Whumpee)

Maybe the WTW was just an accomplice, they had to be a whumper because that’s just what’s expected of them/they’re scared/they owe a debt. So the WTC has more sympathy towards them.

Of course the WTC is sceptical at first - who wouldn’t be? - but when the WTW pleads their case, the caretaker obliges. 

Maybe they have a mutual respect for each other, maybe they don’t.

Maybe the WTC owes a loved one of the WTW a debt, so they have to help them. 

Or, the WTC has to keep the WTW alive so they can later be tried for their crimes. 

During this time, the WTW could feverishly admit to things that they have/hadn’t done.

The WTW could see the WTC as a threat, and denies all medical help until they’re on the brink of passing out/dying. 

BLOOD  IS  ❛  STICKIER  ❜  than  she  remembers.  Slick  as  oil,  warm,  and  clinging  to  the  swath  of  her  skin.  Beyond  her,  the  club  is  SILENT,  and  the  smell  of  flesh  festers;  some  putrid  perfume  that  permeates  the  air.    

These  people—  these  MORTALS—  are  nothing  like  her.  They  are  delicate,  they  are  dispensable,  and  they  are  FILLED  WITH  GOO.  With  organs  that  preform  functions,  very  much  unlike  her  own  body;  nothing  more  than  a  human-shaped  guise.  Sure,  Delirium  may  bleed  here  and  there—at  her  own  volition.    

But  not  like  humans.  HUMANS,  they  BURST...  

Burst  indeed.  The  CORPSE  that  lies  on  the  sweat-stained  floor  is  (  upon  closer  inspection  )  male.  And  if  one  eyes  past  the  conglomerate  of  sticky  flesh,  of  bone  fragment,  and  of  face-parts,  they  may  very  well  be  able  to  gather  as  such.  He  looked  to  be  a  tall  man.  A  young  man.  A  man  who  had  perhaps  a  few  too  many  drinks.  

Laughing,  stumbling,  dancing,  joking,  smiling.  Joking  with  her.  Dancing  with  her.  He  complimented  her  wild  MANE  OF  HAIR,  as  red  as  a  new  sun.  He  complimented  her  STRANGE  EYES,  two  unmatched  and  ever-searching  things.  

And  then,  he  touched  her  side.  And  he  had  to  die.    

And  they  watched—  they  ALL  watched.  The  crowd  of  scantily  clad  bodies,  dressed  and  smelling  of  sex  and  smoke  and  alcohol.  They  watched  as  the  blood  poured  from  his  face;  as  it  poured  down  her  arms,  and  in  the  dim  lighting  NO  ONE  seemed  to  know  how  it  happened.  Even  Delirium  could  not  recall.  

But  she’s  covered  in  blood,  now.  Shaking.  

She’d  broken  a  rule.  He’d  tell  her  brother,  who’d  tell  his  sister,  who’d  tell  her  brother,  and  then  EVERYONE  WOULD  KNOW.    

Screams  tear  continually  through  the  damp  air.  Loud,  terribly  loud.  She  wants  them  to  stop—  wants  them  to  SHUT  UP.    

And  there,  across  the  room,  she  spots  him.  The  only  soul  not  screaming  or  fleeing  or  calling  for  help.  Indeed  he  is  smiling;  THE  CORINTHIAN.  

❝  It’s  not—  I’m  not—  I didn’t  mean—❞

                ˜”*°•.     Screams .  The  once music  was  now covered  by  screams , shrieks  and  cries . The once  laughter  was  now covered  by  shock , fear  and  terror . Everyone  was  frozen ,  everyone was  motionless ,  staring . Staring  at  her , at  Delirium .  The  Endless  that’d broken  one  of the  most  ancient  rules ; the  Endless  that’d murdered  a  mortal .  

He stood  there .  Surrounded by  crowds  that screamed  and  ran .  By  thick smoke  and  alcohol odor .  He  stood still .  Amusement  painting his  lips ,  entertainment .  And he  watched .  Watched Delirium  losing  more and  more  of her  own  self-control ,  diving deeper  and  deeper into   the  maelstrom  of her  own  panic . But  he  knew , oh  he  knew that  he  couldn’t  leave her  there ,  he  couldn’t walk away .  Not  when everything  was  finally working  in  his favor .

He  stepped closer  to  the other .  While  the  crowds would  rush  towards  the  exit ,  while  they’d  scream  for  the  police ,  he walked  closer .  Hand  offered  in  assistance , yet  not  daring the  risk  of  the  touch .  ❝ We  should   really   leave  this place . ❞   He was accustomed  to  murder , to  death ,  to blood .  But  to commit  a  crime  in  the open …  it  was  a  little bit  too  risky . Dangerous .  Even  for  someone  like  them .

　　the cathedral was long dead. the lord shaper's gaze was cast forward, & yet far away ( anchored not in the ruins, but in something deeper, older ) there was a grief that had no voice.

her voice rang from behind, causing dream's shoulders to slump slightly as he turns to face delirium. his features as unreadable as ever ; sharp, pale, sorrow - sculpted. but something flickered there. he doesn't speak yet. whether it be from fear that he will say something to upset his sibling, or be it he doesn't know what to say at all.

@delirim sent: 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔢𝔩𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫, 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱'𝔰 𝔧𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢.

               ˜”*°•.     The  thrive  of  one’s  self ,  wasn’t  it  the  desire  of  every  living  being  ?   The  need  to  not  only  survive  but  also  climb  up  to  the  top  of  the  hierarchy ,  rule  the  world .   And  so ,  Desire  brought  desires ,  and  Desire  embraced  them  too .  The  desire  for  power ,  for  control ,  respect  and  fun .  The  desire  for  the  sweet  taste  of  revenge  and  punishment .

There  was  a  war  lurking  on  the  horizon   -  the  heralds  of  destruction  already  echoing  loud .  Their  lovely  brother  making  choices  perhaps  a  little  bit  too  provocative  -  too  many  people  angered ,  too  many  sides  turning  against  him .    However,  there  was  that  one  Endless  that  they  couldn’t  quite  tell  what  side  they  were  going  to  opt  for  yet .  One  Endless  that  needed  just  a  tiny   bit  of  a  push  before  they  were  fully  misguided ,  confused .

@delirim sent: 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢? 

             ˜”*°•.      Simple .  The poison  of  treason was  bitter  on both  sides .  For young  Delirium ,  however foolish ,  however  childish and  naïve ,  could be  as  well hiding  behind  a  well-made  façade. To  spill  family blood  was  a complicated  matter ,  though ; knife  cutting  on both  sides ,  none could  stab  without  getting stabbed ,  none  could destroy  without  getting destroyed .  But  to  trick ,  to manipulate ,  to  bring about  ordeals  and  some  discomfort here  and  there  -  was it  breaking  the rules ?  Perhaps  to hurt  Delirium  could they  not ,  but as  long  as their  sister  was in  their  kingdom, the  game  was played  by  their rules .  And  confiding one  -  well , it  was  not  exactly  punishable for  all  they’d heard .

❝ But my  dear  Delirium, am  I  really  the  villain  here ? ❞  An almost  pity  painted a  voice  echoing melodic  -  song like  almost .  A dangerous  game  were they   playing  - each  of  the  Endless  very slowly  but  very certainly  getting  similarly dragged .  Family  blood could  not  be spilt ,  and  yet  there  they were  walking  towards a  massacre .  And Delirium ? Desire  couldn’t  quite pinpoint  their  sister’s role  in  the disaster  unfolding .  An issue  indeed ,  and yet  an   issue bound  to  change .

Send my muse "why does [NAME] call you babygirl?" for their reaction! / accepting!  

"Huh?"

Hob isn't certain if the girl in front of him is real or if she's a coke-induced hallucination but after a few moments of staring at her, as his dilated pupils drank in the absurdity of her clothes, he registered what she said.

"I'm bleeding?" He brought a hand up to his nose and it came away bloody. "Oh- I am bleeding..."