dousing: (Default)
memery. ([personal profile] dousing) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2017-04-19 07:51 pm

MADE A DEAD MAN'S MONEY YOU CAN SEE IT IN MY SMILE


COVERED IN BLOOD MEME


So you're a bit of a mess. Or you're stumbling upon a mess. What happened? There's blood everywhere, what the hell? Is it your blood, animal blood, the blood of someone you murdered? Hell, maybe you ran out of tampons. Anyway, no matter how it got there, you're (or someone you know is) covered in blood. Can it be explained away? If not, is someone going to prison? The hospital? Going to die of blood loss? Get in trouble for playing catch with the blood bags? Man, we don't know. The point is you have a mess to clean up. Or roll around in gleefully, you nasty fucks.

• Top level your character. Include any details you might think are relevant. Or don't. As always, we're not the cops.
• Reply to other people's top levels!
• While this meme is bound to have a lot of potentially triggering content, content warnings for anything ott or very extreme are probably a good idea!
• Have fun!

wicked_and_unnatural: (crying)

[personal profile] wicked_and_unnatural 2017-04-23 10:25 am (UTC)(link)
There was no where else for him to go. It was stupid, he knew that, coming back here. So, so stupid. The building itself had been mended as much as it could be, walls mended by magic. Even damage done by age and neglect had been repaired which had left a full, sturdy banister for Credence to lean against as he climbed the stairs. Some part of him hoped that Modesty would still be there, scared and uncertain but alive and safe and that would be enough.

She was gone, though. Fled when he had lost control of himself again, given into the anger and pain of betrayal. It was probably best this way. She'd be terrified of him. She should be terrified of him. Which was perhaps what hurt most of all, his family was gone. He'd destroyed everything, ruined the lives of his sisters whom he'd only ever wanted to protect.

It hurt more than the burns that crossed their way across his chest and arms, blackened skin and seeping wounds that he tried to wrap with what was left of his shirt and jacket. Now, more than ever, he longed for the healing warmth of Mr. Graves' hands and he hated himself for it. For missing the snake's promises and lies. It had been so much easier when he'd never known what could be, resigned to his lot in life as God intended. As Ma intended.

Perhaps, here in this abandoned home, he would finally die as the strange world of magic had wanted. He hurt in every way a person could and he thought that now death would be a welcome alternative to the shambles of his life that were left.
negativechill: (ɢᴇʟʟᴇʀᴛ : 015)

[personal profile] negativechill 2017-04-23 09:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Gellert had been right. MACUSA prison hadn't held him for long. He'd broken out with flourish and panache and pressed through the building with bare-handed magic until he could find his wand. How many aurors would it take to truly bring him down? No one actually knows. It's clear that his wardens hadn't been enough. Every official is in an uproar immediately but they're trying to suppress the public's panic so the papers don't know. It hasn't been long enough, after all. They can capture him again.

(Maybe.)

That said he's still wounded because even he is not immortal. He doesn't know why he goes to that damned building. Perhaps because he expects no one to be there. He can lick his wounds in peace and plan his next move. He'd gotten back his clothing - Graves' clothing - but transfigured it to look different so that it would be harder to recognize him. He wonders if they've found the Auror yet and smiles. Maybe they never will.

There's movement and Gellert stills, wand in hand as he carefully picks his way forward. And it's--

Credence. Whole but wounded and he sucks in a breath. He moves toward the boy carefully, having to urge himself to not speak his name. Credence had never seen his real face. He can use this to his advantage. Gellert is splattered with blood both from his own wounds and his harshness upon escape. Still, he forgets all about that in the face of projecting gentleness and worry. Simple.

"Are you all right?" It's spoken softly, wand tucked away at his arm again. "Let me help you. Tell me what's wrong."
wicked_and_unnatural: (crying)

[personal profile] wicked_and_unnatural 2017-04-24 08:33 am (UTC)(link)
Credence startles, weak and distressed and utterly unaware that someone else had even entered the building until he heard the man's voice. Dark eyes go wide and flicker up and then away again before meeting his gaze. Truly, Grindelwald needn't have worried much about acting. The boy is so caught up in his own head, in his own guilt that he's only distantly aware of his surroundings.

"I-I'm sorry..." Immediately apologizing, voice raw and wrecked from crying for so long. He's not even sure how long, days now it must be. He thinks he must have slept for much of it, waking only when the cold or pain got to be too much. "I know I'm not-"

He's not supposed to be here. He's not supposed to be anywhere. He's meant to be dead, he knows that and it makes his breath catch in his throat, a harsh strangled sound. Mr. Graves was right and so was Ma. So useless he can't even die properly.

"I'll leave." And he hates how his voice trembles as though he might start crying again. Even so he tries to push himself to his feet, body protesting every movement in a way that makes his vision swim but if there is any one thing that Credence can do well it is endure.
negativechill: (ɢᴇʟʟᴇʀᴛ : 023)

[personal profile] negativechill 2017-04-24 06:09 pm (UTC)(link)
Gellert has to be sure at all times. His mistake had cost him everything. Now he has another chance and he's not going to squander it. "Don't be sorry," he murmurs, moving a little closer. "I'm not either. We'll be in this together, how about that?" Had he read Credence's mind? Surely not; perhaps he'd just gleaned from context.

He steps closer so soon as Credence moves, shaking his head and placing a gentle hand on his arm, not enough to hurt - touch feather light. "Don't move, you're hurt. You don't have to go anywhere. Come, sit with me, we'll see what I can do." Gellert sinks to the floor, making sure that the young man stays at his side. "Tell me what happened." It's firm. He's still touching Credence's arm and it's more tactile now; a warmth that's soothing and relieves some of the pain, the ache, spreads from his hand.

He's trying to calm him enough to trust him. The magic feels different from when he was masquerading as Graves though. Instead of controlled and solid it's something fluttering and wild, purposely shifted so that he can't possibly recognize it as something he's felt before. "Let me help you." He repeats himself to remind him of the request. "What's your name? Tell me where it hurts the most." He grimaces slightly as he shifts his position, continuing to ignore a wound at his side. It's always more difficult to heal your own injuries anyway.
wicked_and_unnatural: (longing)

[personal profile] wicked_and_unnatural 2017-04-26 03:22 pm (UTC)(link)
The touch is what finally makes him really look up at the other man, confusion and a flicker of something hopeful in his eyes. He nods jerkily and lets himself be guided back down to the floor. Why this man would want to help him is beyond him but he's too weak to refuse though he knows he should.

How can he begin to explain all of what's happened in the last few days to a stranger? At the very least he'd sound completely mad, though that's not all that unusual from the people that roam New York's streets with nowhere to go, he supposes. But then the warmth of the other man's hand on his arm spreads in an unnatural way, flickering and hot and Credence's eyes go wide as he openly stares at the other man.

He visibly trembles with the conflict of pulling away from the rush of magic, fascinating and perfectly tempting, or leaning in to bask in the sensation, terrifying and wrong. After a long, stiff moment he simply melts against the wall, carefully neutral and allowing whatever the other man wills. "You shouldn't... they-" He swallows hard, wincing even as he moves the tattered edge of his shirt to display one of the worst burns, a spell that had caught him in the chest and seared it's way along his ribs, deep and fierce enough to still be seeping unpleasantly and crack apart with every breath.

"They want me dead." Soft and resigned even as he lets himself shift a fraction closer to the offered warmth. "I'm a monster."
negativechill: (ɢᴇʟʟᴇʀᴛ : 033)

[personal profile] negativechill 2017-04-27 06:02 am (UTC)(link)
Gellert doesn't move from where he's seated next to Credence, eyebrows lofted just a little as though he's in disbelief. Perhaps he is - the boy has spent how long out here alone after everything that happened? He's still alive. He's still hanging on. He wants to place a hand at his nape, draw him in closer, but he refrains.

His touch trails over places he can sense that Credence is hurt, a non-verbal diagnostic spell kicking around in his own brain to tell him. He still doesn't pull his wand, instead letting him cement his touch with warmth and healing in the younger man's mind. He only does this after Credence relaxes against the wall though, waiting for him to not be tense like a creaking spring.

"I shouldn't what? Help you? Nonsense." So soon as Credence shows him that damage Gellert frowns. How dare they, to his Credence? This gets a peculiar treatment with Gellert leaning in, holding onto his arm with one hand and the other hovering over the wound. "Try to stay quiet. This may hurt, it's not going to heal properly unless I can clear the residual magic out. I'm here, hide your face against me if you must."

It's not a long list of steps but they'd spun so many spells at Credence that the magic's practically bleeding out of him like any blood is. Siphoning it out is painful but it could be worse, Gellert's hand open-palmed and just barely not touching him. "Breathe." Only once that's done can he work on the injury itself, which is bad enough that he does need his wand. He knits the skin and muscle back together carefully - it would be better with a potion, it's going to leave a nasty scar like this - but there's little else to be done for it just now.

Hopefully that clears out some of the pain. He waits for Credence to show any signs of paying attention to him again before he speaks. "You don't seem like a monster to me."

(Gellert is the monster, here.)
wicked_and_unnatural: (apologetic)

[personal profile] wicked_and_unnatural 2017-04-27 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)
His breath hiccups in something that might've been a derisive snort if he weren't so well conditioned to keep any such expression silent. 'Try to stay quiet." He could not remember the last time he had been foolish enough to allow himself to verbalize a response to pain. It only made things worse, only made Ma more angry... Ma who was dead now, because of him.

The least he could do was restrain himself as this strange man had requested. Even experienced as he was swallowing down any sounds it hurt, hurt in ways he hadn't known he could hurt until a short time ago. He remained carefully still, breath trapped in his lungs, teeth grit so hard he was trembling with the force of holding himself taught. Sobs caught in his chest, stifled and shuddering but he didn't make a sound, not even a ragged breath.

It isn't until his vision is going a little grey at the edges and Gellert tells him to breathe that he finally gasps in a harsh breath. He tries so very hard to let it out slowly, to breathe normally and not pant with the pain searing through his side, up into his chest. He sucks in one more breath, hard and painful and then stills all over again because if he lets himself breathe that iron control over his pain might shatter and then he'd be left sobbing and weak and he deserves this, every last ounce of this pain is his punishment for what he was.

His eyes are blurry with tears and he does his best not to let them fall but even he can only do so much. There's a long moment of silence, even after Gellert has healed what he can and Credence can do little more than try to remember how to breathe, tears falling slow and silent. "Y-you..." He swallowed hard, voice strained and raw and trembling. "You're one of them..." A weak gesture to his wand.

"You saw what I did."
negativechill: (ɢᴇʟʟᴇʀᴛ : 035)

[personal profile] negativechill 2017-04-27 11:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Gellert knows that about Credence, that he's so used to pain, but he's not supposed to so of course he's requested it. He listens, makes sure that Credence isn't about to pass out, just lets him settle back down once he's done. There's a chill - Gellert takes his coat off and drapes it over the young man. There's a long ragged gash in one side of it and his vest underneath is caked in some blood of his own, but he doesn't seem to notice it.

"You're doing well. Keep warm with this." He tips his head back afterward, one arm moving to curl around Credence's shoulders and keep him close to his side. Gellert is tired, drained, but this is more important. He keeps warming, soothing, doing what he can for the smaller wounds by being tactile, wand between two fingers.

"A wizard?" He lifts his head again, looking over to Credence as though he's confused. "Yes. So are you. A wizard with a beautiful strength." He's speaking softly and carefully, trying to get his point across as gently as possible. To not scare him away. "Has no one ever told you that you were a wizard?" Everything he's doing now is distracting. Little touches, leaning close, his mild voice. Tailored specifically. "I saw what happened, but that isn't about what you did. It's about what people have put inside you and what that has done, what mistreating you got them in the end. You didn't hurt anyone. Your magic was helping you protect yourself."

A lovely speech, isn't it? It absolves Credence of any wrong-doing. "Has someone told you before that magic is bad?"
wicked_and_unnatural: (fear)

[personal profile] wicked_and_unnatural 2017-04-29 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)
He could endure the pain silently and with little fuss. The soothing words and touches, the comfort offered by the other man, that is nearly enough to break him. Credence leans heavily into the contact, head resting on Gellert's shoulder, tears slowly but steadily dampening the fabric of the other man's shirt.

He wanted to believe him so badly, believe that it wasn't his fault, that he could not possibly be held responsible for the horrible things he's done. But he has had nearly two decades of guilt beaten into him and it is nearly impossible to let that go. "I'm not." Not a wizard, not beautiful or strong. He shakes his head slightly but doesn't withdraw from the warmth of the arm around him, no matter how much his mind insists that he should. He's cold and tired and everything hurts. Just this once he will allow himself to have some small measure of comfort.

"It's a sin." Magic, the comfort he finds in the other man's touch, his very existence. "It's wicked... I'm wicked." Soft and resigned, even a little apologetic. Then he shifts, moving to retake his own space, separate from the other man. Sure that admittance will make the contact unwelcome now. "I'm sorry... thank you." He starts to hand the coat back to Gellert when he notices the tear, the splattering of blood, and looks down at him, really looks at him for the first time, eyes wide and frightened.

"Are you-" No clearly not okay and here he was tending to Credence's wounds. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." If only he weren't so useless he'd have noticed, maybe been able to help.