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storytimefromthecreed · 5 years ago

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Masterlist

It’s been 4 long yeays, and I’ve finally got my stuff together. Literally. Behold, the Masterlist. Everything I’ve ever written not including the stuff I have saved in drafts and queued for you while I’m not here (so I’ll be adding to this later). It’s been a journey, and I want to thank everyone for their requests, words of encouragement, and bearing with me. At long last, enjoy.

Altair, The Original Baddie, The Original Bae

Mod!Altair: Watching Scary Movies

Being Sick

It’s Not What It Looks Like

Crack A Smile

A Day With: Altair

Jealous

Habibi

The Plan

Altair Doesn’t Stand for Bullies

Pride

Mod!Altair and The Dead Bodies

Ow, I Got A Papercut...Kiss It?

I Love This Song! Want To Dance

Dadtair

Mod!Altair: I’m Not Overreacting! You Killed Someone!

You’re Eyes Should Be On The Target, Not My Backside

Mod!Altair: Normal People Don’t Have A Basement Stockpiled With Weapons

You Look So Beautiful Covered In Blood

Liquid Confidence

Happily Ever After

You’re An Assassin. Act Like It.

The Mentor

Where The Heart Is

That No Good Apple

Masyaf

Novice

Target

Conspiracy

Dating Altair Would Include:

When A Good Man Goes To War

Pictures With Santa

Altair’s Happy Ending

Darim:

How It Should Have Happened (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Early Bird

Malik

Malik and The Shirt

Malik and The Artist

Bureau

Nurse Malik

Office Romance

Rainy Days

AltMal

Dai Malik

AltMar

(Disney AU) Once Upon A Dream

AltMalMar

(Disney AU) Prince Malik

Kadar

Sorry, Was This Your Sweater?

Federico

Did You Just Set The Kitchen On Fire?

Claudia

(Disney AU) Claudia Won’t Say She’s in Love

Ezio de la la la

Mod!Ezio: Coming To Your Rescue

I Think I’m in Love With You, and I’m Terrified.

Make It To The Bed

When You Bring Him Home

Jealous

He Must Be Late, and She Must Be Beautiful

A Ezio HC

I’m So Tired

Mod!Ezio: A Date

Chocolate

Serenade

The Man Who Has Everything

La Volpe and Cats

Mod!Ezio and The Passionate Kissing

Mod!Ezio: Study

Big Brother Ezio and The Skirt

Mod!Ezio: Traffic

Let’s Stay In

Here, Let Me Kiss It Better For You

You Only Know One Side of The Story.

Who Do I Have To Kill For Some Chocolate?

Helping Ezio Kick Butt

You’re An Assassin. Act Like It.

Do It. End This. Please.

I Trusted You!

This Is It. This Is How I Die.

What Could Have Been

EzioLeo

The Love From Near and Afar

Yusuf, The Teddybear of Istanbul

Wake Up!

The Teddybear of Istanbul

Lift

Mod!Yusuf: I’ll Wake You Up When We’re There

Yusuf is 75% Sure

I Don’t Remember What Life What Like Before Loving You

I Bet I’m A Better Cuddler

You Look Adorable When You’re Cold

Would You Look At That.

At What Cost?

Dating Yusuf Would Include:

Yusuf and Claudia

I’ll Wake You Up When We Get There

Claudia Meets Yusuf

Love Affair

Dating Yusuf Would Include:

Yusuf x Arno

Turkish Delight

Connor Kenbae

Sleepless

The Hero You Need

Mod!Connor: Watching Scary Movies

Reacting to Your Pregnancy

Being Sick

Connor Doesn’t Stand for Bullies

A Rainy Day

The Middle of a Thunderstorm

Please Don’t Do This.

Is There A Reason You’re Naked in My Bed?

Sweater Weather

Tell Me A Secret

A Massage

Wanna Dance?

Fainting

Mod!Connor: Helping You Through A Bad Day

It’s A Big World, Connor Kenway

Connor and The Artist

The Death of Charles Lee

Jealous

A Fight

Snow Day

What Were You Dreaming About? You Were Shouting.

Tired

Mod!Connor: A Date

Teddybear

Lift

Mod!Connor: Confessing

Faith, Trust, and Ratonhnhake:ton

Love At First Fight

Jealousy Brews Beasts

Connor vs The Bow

TOKW Connor

Connor and The Cereal

Connor and The Dream

Connor and Cats

Connor and The Arm

Connor and The Dead Bodies

Connor Punches First, Asks Questions Later

Puppy With The Puppy

What Would I Do Without You?

Here, I’ll Kiss It Better For You

You Look Adorable When You’re Cold

Do You Think You Could Just Talk To Me?

Happy Birthday Connor

Family Fun

Beautifully Flawed

Haytham Hits On You, And It Goes How You’d Expect

I’d Do It Again If I Have To

Half Blood (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10) (Chapter 11) (Chapter 12)

Of Course There’s Blood. What Did You Expect?

This Is The Worst Time For It To Start Raining

The Man With The Silver Tongue

Braiding Connor’s Hair

Angsty

Happily Ever After

You...You Fight Good

I...I...I Think I Love You

Must You Be So Dramatic?

Cat and Mouse

Fire Fire

The Flames

Spur of the Moment

Heart Health

Kanen’to:kon

This Is Not Funny

Smitten!

Connor & Kanen’to:kon

Teddybear

Connor & Haytham

Kenways’ Happy Ending (Part 1) (Part 2)

Haytham

Kiss Me.

Just A Bad Dream

It’s Already, I’ll Manage On My Own

Comparisons

Baby Brother

Shipwrecked

Mod!Haytham & Teen!Connor: Haytham’s Lovelife

Mod!Haytham and The Name

Haytham and The Dream

Haytham and The Passionate Kissing

Ow, I Got A Papercut...Kiss It?

It’s Not Just You That I Love

Cupid’s Chokehold

Haytham and Ziio:

(Disney AU) Colors of the Wind

Thomas Hickey

Hickey and The Proposal

Hickey Asks For A Date

Edward Kenway

Time Alone

Hey! I Was Gonna Eat That!

I Wish I Could Hate You

A Massage

Fainting

Marry Me?

Jealous

Is There A Reason You’re Naked in My Bed?

This Is Not Funny

Look At Those Muscles

You Can Sit On My Lap, If You Want

Mod!Edward: Hot Chocolate

A Little Trip

Edward is 75% Sure

Edward and The Arm

Mod!Edward and The Skirt

Drunk In Love

I Love This Song! Want To Dance?

That’s Not Exactly What An Apology Sounds Like

Mary Had A Little... (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6)

Righting Wrongs (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Mod!Edward: Leather Jackets, Hot Chocolate, Edward Kenway

Goodnight, and Joy Be With You All

Dating Edward Would Include:

(Disney AU) Golly, What a Day!

Charles Vane

Why Didn’t You Just Ask?

What Would I Do Without You?

It’s Not Just You That I Love

Failing Vane

Arno Victor Dorian

Strange Weather

Is There A Reason You’re Naked in My Bed?

Hey! I Was Gonna Eat That!

Mod!Arno: Urges

Jealous

The Weird Dream

A Fight

The Fight

Lift

You Can Cook?

This Is Not Funny

Arno and The Ankle

Arno and The Arm

Mod!Arno and The Passionate Kissing

Arno and The Cat

Arno and The Cats

It’s Not Just You That I Love

Happy Birthday, Mr. Dorian

You’re An Assassin. Act Like It.

Arno’s Escape

Dating Arno Would Include:

One Dance

Beginner’s Unluck

Being Arno’s Sister

A Friend In Need

First Kiss

A Cafe in Paris

(NSFW) Happy Birthday, Mr. Dorian

Arno & The Frenchmen Four

To Save The Savior

We Have A Dog

Mod!Frenchmen: This Is Not Funny

Ghosts

The Thing

I Bet I’m A Better Cuddler Than You

When I Said Start A Small Fire, This Was Not What I Was Talking About

I Got Stabbed...So You Bought Me Cake

If We’re Arrested, It’s Entirely Your Fault

Be Our Guest

Arno, A Man of No Words

Something Blue, Something Borrowed (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

Qu’est-ce que c’est?

The Frenchmen Four

A Walk In The Park

A Background (My Personal HC)

A Typical Day

Dating HC

Older Siblings HC

Axeman

To The Rescue

Blades

Mod!Gerard: Did You Just Set The Kitchen On Fire?

Lift

Did I Mention How Cute You Look After A Run?

Greencoat

Bagel

So, Basically, You’re In A Cult

Green Coat, Red Cheeks

Green Eggs and Ham

Ghost

A Ghost Story

Elise

Hot Chocolate and Smores?

Shay Patrick Cormac

Hey, I’m With You, Always

Have You Seen The...? Oh.

Don’t Panic, Love

A Fight

Riven (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7)

Look At Those Muscles

I’ll Wake You Up When We’re There

With Child

Mod!Shay and The Arm

Shay in Jail

Shay is 75% Sure

I Don’t Remember What Life Was Like Before Loving You

Cold? Here, Let Me Hold You

You Look Adorable When You’re Cold

Here, I’ll Kiss It Better For You

I Don’t Need Luck, I Have Hope

Someone’s Trying To Kill Us, And You’re Flirting With Me?

Must You Be So Dramatic?

I Make My Own Luck (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10) (Chapter 11) (Chapter 12) (Chapter 13) (Chapter 14) (Chapter 15) (Chapter 16)

Happy Holidays from The Cormac Family

Soft Shay

Dating Shay Would Include:

(Disney AU) Into the Unknown

Liam O’Brien

Liam’s Happy Ending

Happy Holidays With Liam

Dating Liam Would Include:

Jacob

Did You Do That For Me? Aw, Come Here

Jacob Being Sweet

Brawl

Jacob and The Skirt

Mod!Jacob and The Car

Mod!Jacob and The Underwear

Jacob Punches First, Asks Questions Later

A Use of The Rooks

Cold? Here, Let Me Hold You

Mod!Jacob: Hot Chocolate and Smores?

It’s Not Just You That I Love

I Can’t Imagine Being Alone Anymore

Name One Time, I Dare You

Mod!Jacob: Father Frye

You Only Know One Side of The Story.

Happily Ever After

Must You Be So Dramatic?

You’re An Assassin. Act Like it.

I...I Think I Love You

Do It. End This. Please.

You’re The Source of All My Problems

Evie

A Night With Evie

Evie and The Cereal

Henry

A Sweet Story

Desmond, Definately Alive, Miles

Lift

Did You Just Set The Kitchen on Fire?

Fluffy Desmond

Desmond’s Song

Desmond and The Chloroform

Desmond and The Underwear

Desmond is 75% Sure

Desmond

Can’t Imagine Being Alone Anymore

I Love This Song! Want To Dance?

Hot Chocolate and Smores?

Sorry, Was That Your Sweater?

Roof Talks

I Trusted You!

Desmond’s Happy Ending

Shaun

Shaun and The Demon

Shaun and The Underwear

It’s Not Just You That I Love

I Don’t Remember What Life Was Like Before Loving You

I Bet I’m A Better Cuddler Than You

Grab My Hand. We’re Gonna Make A Jump For It

We’re Not Dating

A Happy Ending With Shaun and Clay

Abstrego

Cavities

Kassandra

Alexios

Have We Met? (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Disney AU) Zero to Hero

Brasidas

(NSFW) Baesidas

Assassin Prefernces:

When You’re Sick

When They’re Sick

Secret Truths: Talents

Secret Truths: Fears

Secret Truths: Sleeping

Secret Truths: (Axeman, Yusuf, Malik)

Secret Truths: Sex

Secret Truths: Sex (Evie, Yusuf, Malik)

Secret Truths: Fears (Evie, Jacob, Henry)

How They’d Confess / Ask You Out On Your First Date

Reacting To Your Tattoo

Reacting To Their S/O’s Pregnancy (Altair, Ezio, Connor, Edward, Yusuf, Jacob, Connor, Shay,

Training Styles (Altair, Ezio, Connor, Shay, Evie, Jacob)

Reacting To Their S/O Speaking Their Language (Altair, Edward, Ezio,

Secret Truths: Dogs (Altair, Ezio, Connor, Edward, Haytham, Shay, Evie, Jacob)

Secret Truths: Dancing (Connor, Edward, Haytham, Shay, Aveline, Elise, Evie, Altair, Ezio, Jacob, Malik) Bayek (not my addition), Kassandra, Alexios,

Coffee / Tea Preferences (Everyone)

How They Say “My Wife”

Combo Assassins:

Connor and Arno: Friends and The Tub

Falling For Jacob

Gang Gang

Edward Punches First, Asks Questions Later

Aveline, Evie, and The Dead Bodies

Connor, Shay, and The Sprained Ankle

Ezio, Arno, and The Arm

Let Them Eat Cake

Assassins To The Dentist

Sons and Daughters: Backyard Fun

Blackout

A Modern Shakespeare

Shay: I’m Surrounded By Idiots

Connor: Do It. End This. Please.

Jacob: You’re An Assassin. Act Like It.

Edward: Must You Be So Dramatic?

Edward: I Hate Myself

The Other Side of the War

The Assassins As Roommates:

The Original

Girls’ Nights

Part 2

Nicknames With Jacob

Friendsgiving 2015

British Bromance

Girl’s Night

Break In

Scary Movie

Date Night: Altair and Maria

Christmas 2016

Fight Club (Evie vs Connor) (Desmond vs Jacob) (Malik vs Alexios) (Altair vs Bayek)

Moving Out

Tall Tales

Altair’s Birthday

Altair’s Happy Ending

Canon Crimes

Halloween 2019

Fun

Thanksgiving 2019

Meeting The Spartan Siblings

Christmas 2019

The Christmas Miracle of 2019

(Disney AU) I’ll Make a Man Out of You

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 5 years ago

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Wicked Child | Feeding Habits #2

Hey People of Earth!

I’m back with another writing update for Feeding Habits (Moth Work #2) at last!

A few things since the last update: this project is 100% going to be a novel and also has a title (Feeding Habits)!

Chapter two has been sort of strange to write as I actually had written a majority of it before starting over after realizing the events I’d written needed to happen later. This is why it’s taken me a while to update on this book, but I’ve finally completed the chapter and am now here to share it with y’all!

Here’s a scene breakdown of this chapter, which is probably the longest chapter I’ve written in years (6300 words). Buckle up, this update is THICC. TW: lots of religious content in this one.

Scene A:

We go through Lonan’s lonely morning routine (lol) that’s interrupted by Anya, a neighbour he vaguely recognizes. She’s there to take him up to her apartment to paint her kitchen as her husband is away and can’t do it, a plan he was not aware of! (Eliza’s voluntold him to hopefully distract him from wanting to help his friend which is outlined in update #1).

Scene B:

Anya dips before the scene starts to grab some extra supplies to make Lonan some sourdough so Lonan is tasked with watching her young son Joey while he tapes up the baseboards. This is where the “wicked child” aspect of this chapter comes in as he compares the wickedness he feels he and others in his life possess to the full innocence of Joey.

Scene C:

Anya gets back from running errands and at first, seems to be a *chill mom* but as she and Lonan interact more, we get to see that something isn’t fully right with her. From some observation, Lonan finally figures out Anya’s husband is actually dead and she’s struggling with grief.

Scene D:

Lonan is back in his apartment, filling up his bathroom sink. We know from Moth Work that one of Lonan’s hobbies is holding his breath underwater, and he does this in this scene to think. In the middle of this ritual, Eliza gets home and speaks to him as she unwinds, reading rather cryptic notes from fortune cookies she’s brought home with takeout.

Scene E:

Unbeknownst to her, Lonan’s not staying for dinner as Anya invited him to her place as a thank you! However this news doesn't break well and the two bicker until they’re both successfully upset.

Scene F:

Instead of going to Anya’s for dinner, Lonan finds himself at a church confessional. He stumbles through reconciliation in a bit of a haze and eventually heads outside where a concerned mother and her two kids ask if something’s wrong. His thoughts from scene D overwhelm him and he eventually sort of gives himself up to the moment in a bit of a chokehold with the sun.

Though this chapter took a while, I’m happy with the threads I introduced and really got to see Lonan’s mind at this point in time--a sort of lonely state of living. There’s also a lot of religion related stuff in this chapter which is always interesting to write as someone who grew up Catholic, and I was surprised at how pertinent these themes are in this book.

Excerpts:

Here’s the opening bit:

The next morning, Eliza leaves two energy shots on the counter for him, along with a slice of sourdough she bought from the bakery across the street. Both sit on a breakfast tray, room temperature from sitting out too long, icebergs of ginger floating along the glass’s surface, butter on the bread gone pallid and spongy. Next to it, she’s left a note, as she usually does: green casserole in the fridge, running low on OJ.

Lonan retrieves the television remote from the nook between the knife block and flicks the TV to life as he drinks the first shot. Gingerroot—and this morning, a new addition, carrot stems—mush against his incisors, and he swallows just as the TV brightens to an image of some amphibian, a leafy looking treefrog. The crank of their calls bulge like each red eye, the familiar husk of narration outlining the workings of mating. Lonan scoops up the second shot with his pinky and the saucer of sourdough with his index finger and thumb, takes both to the couch where he sits.

Classic Lonan (TM) interaction:

He’s mid chewing the stale crust when he opens the door, expecting a package delivery, an unaddressed sympathy card. Instead, a woman stands in the door, her hair damp and smelling like the coconut salve Eliza rubs onto her kneecaps. He recognizes her face in a fleeting, neighbour-like way, someone he might’ve held the door open for, or let step off the elevator first.

“Breakfast?” She points to the crumb stuck to the corner of his mouth.

Lonan swallows the remainder of the sourdough quickly, combing off the crumb with a shallow smile.

“Sourdough.”

“Did you make it yourself?”

“It’s probably from the back of our medicine cabinet.”

The woman laughs at this, though he’s not fully meant for it to be a joke.

Apparently a new motif in this book is the word stunning that both serves as a descriptor for something magnificent/dazzling and the process of subduing an animal (love being heavy handed about this lmao):

She peers at their half-bloody kitchen wall. “You’re doing red?”

“Eliza’s vegetarian.” At the woman’s blank stare, he turns to look at the wall, examining each plane of his throat as hot embarrassment makes him red like the paint. “Her favourite colour. We’re trying something new. Avant garde.” All things he’s heard Eliza say.

“That’s unique. Very. So unique,” she says, adding, “It’s so kind of you to offer some help while you’re in the middle of painting your own kitchen. When Eliza told me about your offer, I danced in my living room. Is that weird? I danced because I’m going to have a green kitchen—a green one.”

Lonan nods, and steps farther back into the apartment, toward the stack of paint rollers, one of many rolls of tape. “Of course,” he says.

“It makes you feel alive,” the woman says. He forgets what she’s referring to, doesn’t know her name, only vague details like the jeweled bangles she wears on one wrist, the shiny cast of hair gel stirruped around her curls, her teeth, white, like the canines of a wolf. But she doesn’t seem to notice, a starriness in her gaze as she says, “The paint. The green. It’s stunning. Isn’t it?”

Anya’s initial dialogue is some of my favourite I’ve written. Probably because of the moon mention lol. Also Joey’s just chillin and I love him for that!!

The woman’s name is Anya, and she lives three floors up. He finds this out at the same time he finds out Eliza offered to paint her kitchen on his behalf, though what Anya says sounds more like “When Eliza told me you’d paint the wall, I could’ve—what is that saying? I could’ve jumped over the moon. I would’ve. The entire thing. All its phases.”

Anya’s got a toddler named Joey. He’s turning two next month, a little boy with a curly halo for hair, two dimples Lonan sees whenever he glances up from his tape-job of the baseboards. Joey eats apple slices dipped in almond butter and watches cartoons with both feet propped onto the couch cushion, too short to dangle down. Ever so often, he laughs, a shimmery sound, like the inside of a snow globe. Lonan half-watches him, as Anya’s asked—He’s good, don’t stress—if he cries, he wants you to turn up the TV—because she’s out of bread flour and insists on making Lonan two loaves of sourdough.

Some Joey:

“Joey’s good, isn’t he?” she asks, her fingers curving around the tape company’s logo. Lonan inhales. Anya smells like Eliza sometimes does, vaguely floral, like jasmine, or cherry blossoms. “Children are little blessings. Powerful little blessings.”

Of course, he should say. There’s no other way to describe a child—he’s a blissful little thing, his only purpose to keep his feet in his two-inch socks, to stare wistfully at a television like it’s telling his fortune in a language of pictures. Of course a child is a blessing—soft cheeks like the belly of bread dough, pinchable, kissable, thumbable, hands dipped into glittery tempera paint and fingers that make chicken scratches that will never be anything but art. Of course, he should say. He knows that, he should say. But Lonan’s vision fuzzes. He sees little of the TV colours projected on the walls like a hypnotic, technicolour exorcism; he doesn’t remember what it’s like to be that small, what it’s like to have his hands expand right in front of him, like seedlings.

Here’s the title drop ft. a rewritten Bible verse (Revelation 21:8):

He wants to believe children are always powerful little blessings that stay good. He doesn’t know why he doubts her. Joey is just this—a blessing on her couch, smiling at a screen because it’s all he needs to do. But he knows better, knows the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable exist, where they all live, and how they all start—as little blessings. He’s met murderers, liars, sorcerers in the shape of his father, sisters, mothers, all the wicked things that emerge from their second deaths unscathed. He doesn’t know what makes a child wicked. If he is one. If he’s been one. How many wicked children he knows.

Eliza hasn’t returned any of Lonan’s phone calls since he tried dialling somewhere between the first and last half of the wall. It’s obvious Anya knows he wasn’t aware of the plan, which is why every few minutes, she states new reasons for her forgetfulness with the time. “Eliza ran into me in the hallway, and I’m so bad at hallways,” she said, while rolling the dough between her knuckles. “So many turns.” Brushing her benchtop with more flour: “Time as a mother is such a commodity. It’s like, what’s the down payment for five minutes alone? But Joey’s worth it. Joey’s always worth it. He’s just magnificent. Can’t stay away from magnificence.”

More interactions I adore:

“You want some OJ?”

Lonan looks up from the paint blankly, focusing on Anya in an embarrassingly slow haze. “What?”

Anya reaches over to the fridge and tugs on its stainless-steel handle. It gives with a haunted sound, a subtle sort of groaning, and emerges with a glass bottle of orange juice.

“OJ,” she says, and shakes the bottle so the liquid froths.

“Oh,” he says. Green casserole in the fridge. Running low on OJ. “We’re low on that.”

Okay sorry but I’m so in love with Anya and Lonan’s interactions lol:

“Where are you from again?” She undoes her apron from the back with one hand. It falls, a lilac clump, onto the tile, and she leaves it there, only nudging it slightly with her toe.

Her eyes are golden too. Everything in her apartment. Even the silver parts are somehow gold. How much she could pawn off for eyes like those, like individual buttons of solid gold. Anya squints, and there the gold goes, focusing on him until she leans forward and plucks a strand of hair from his jaw. It sags with green paint, and before he blinks, she’s clipped it with a pair of kitchen shears.

“You got some paint on you.”

“Oregon,” he says. “Boston. New York.”

“What?”

“You asked where I’m from.”

Anya pockets his hair. He’s sure it’s a subconscious tick—she hasn’t even realized—but still, he wonders what she’ll do with it. If she’ll send it somewhere to get scanned, bagged, tested. How much you can find out about someone with just a nib of hair.

“That’s a lot of places,” she says. “You’re basically transcontinental.”

From her pocket, Anya’s hand twitches. He wonders what she’s doing, if she’s touching the hair, or flaking off its paint, or simply flattening out her pocket.

“Are you going to clone me?” He gestures to her pocket.

Anya doesn’t look.

“I could.”

“Why?”

“You paint walls fast. You’ve got nice hair.”

“Do you collect hair?”

“Just from the people I like.”

We get to see Anya unravel a little here as she and Lonan share a drink:

He’s always been good at watching. This is what he does as Anya pulls a miniature bottle of a deep amber liquid from her fridge along with the orange juice, mixing them together so what he pushes toward him smells like ammonia. She drinks half, an easiness as she swallows, and then slides the glass to him.

He leaves it there for a while. He watches Joey, how he claps when more animals show up on screen and gets quiet during the wrangle of commercials. He’s gold just like his mother, with a gap tooth that matches the man’s who grins in every photo hung neatly on the walls. A face he doesn’t remember, not even in the hazy slots he reserves for what he remembers working the hardware store. No evidence of him anywhere else, the shoes on the front mat only women’s heels or child-sized sneakers. One hook that holds one set of keys. Only the photographs.

“Where is your husband right now?” he asks. One wine glass in the sink. One coffee mug. One saucer.

“Businessman. Very busy.”

“I don’t remember him coming into the store.”

Anya takes another sip of the orange juice even though it’s Lonan’s turn to drink. Anya looks at Joey, a desperate fondness that answers Lonan’s question for him. She looks at him like she’s searching for the face of the man in the pictures, searching because she hasn’t seen it in years.

Anya really unravelling:

Anya’s face is bloated and red, a soreness in her eyes like she needs to blink but can’t. Lonan instinctually reaches for her hand, and it’s then that he notices it—two wedding bands on her ring finger. Her fingertips jolt him, but her palms are warm, the skin there taut, like she’s been clutching it for years.

“I thought the wall would help. Green means new life. Doesn’t it? I read that in a magazine. That it brings new life, I mean. New beginnings. New, new, new.”

Lonan getting existential ft. the first Harrison mention so far tho I’ll probably cut it because I want it to be a little more impactful and also half of this makes no sense oops:

His father is a dead man. Just like Anya’s husband is a dead man. Lonan knows so many dead men. Some that matter more than others, some names he revisits sometimes at the graveyard when Eliza thinks he’s out to run an errand as innocent as replacing a bad container of cottage cheese. He knows of men who are dead but still living, like Harrison’s father who no longer exists as a person in his dimension, but a corpse, hanging around in unnecessary things like a last name, an eye colour. Beyond men, he knows of many other dead things: dead pets, dead street names, dead countries, dead houseplants, dead first ladies.

He knows what a dead father does, what a dead heart does, that these things are meant to die—an inevitable thing; a sort of giving up of flesh, burying, toiling into new soil.

This is basically a monologue:

Lonan is in love with Eliza. He always has been. He always will be. There is nothing better than being in love with Eliza. There is nothing wrong with being in love with Eliza. There is no reason to not be in love with Eliza. Eliza is intelligent. Eliza is driven. Eliza is sensitive. Eliza tries to listen. Eliza knows how to take care of him. Eliza knows how to spell words like zolpidem, wears lipstick in the shade Very Vermillion and is delighted when it rubs onto her teeth. Eliza is lucky. Eliza is hypnotic. Eliza is a holy woman, a sacred woman, a careful woman, a wicked woman.

Lonan gulps water. Too much to keep himself controlled; he sputters, splatters the mirror. He hooks his fingers over his waterline, tugging until water falls out. He paces, chews his palms like Anya did, and steadies himself slowly from the counter to the tile. He is a wicked child. Eliza is a wicked child. Everyone he knows—all wicked children.

“Accept what comes to you each day,” Eliza says, which means she’s opened three of four of the cookies. “That’s truthful. That’s raw. That’s all you need to do.”

Some Eliza dialogue I like in reply to Lonan’s statement that he can’t do things since she bars him from driving:

“You don’t need a car to do things, Lonan.” She stirs her bowl of congee, the plastic spoon scraping against the Styrofoam. “You need hobbies. Like cross stitch. Pickling. Painting neighbours’ walls.”

Lonan and Eliza being Lonan and Eliza:

Lonan secures his fingers around the tin of madeleines and shifts once more, only for her to mimic his movement. They dance like this for a moment—his shuffle left matched by her shuffle left, his step up matched by her own. More of her mascara has smudged from where she unclumped her lashes, a lazy slash of colour like a samurai belt. Even their stares match each other—as he bores through her with a nimble focus like it’ll move her somehow, she does the same.

Here’s a line I like:

As she reddens, he adds this to his list of synonyms for baptism: to tame.

Here’s an excerpt featuring self indulgence and proof I miss Harrison:

The confessional smells rank, like rotting paper and expired cologne, all of its corners seedy with overuse. Scratches mar the fabric he rests his elbows on, like someone clawed into it while reliving their sins, track marks on the floor from a rainy day. He can’t imagine anyone else but him in this small box, caged in by the lattice, mumbling incoherent sins to the priest he hasn’t even committed. Stealing a set of glass eyeballs from a garage sale. Forgetting his wedding anniversary. Missing Easter Sunday mass to go whale watching. He doesn’t sign himself at the right times or speak at the right times or thank the priest at the right times. He lies when he’s asked if he’s lied since his last confession. He mentions nothing of drinking with Anya, of not saving the sheep or the bunnies even though he knew the outcome of their lives without finishing the program. Of being a wicked child, of knowing wicked children, of not knowing the difference between wickedness and innocence, and which one he learned first. He says his name is Luka. He works at a law firm. He’s married to a Harriet, a seamstress or a stock broker or an antiques trader—he doesn’t know. He likes golfing, parcheesi, drinking martinis on yachts. He’s never overindulged, he’s loyal to his woman, he wants three kids and a house with finished floors and no neighbours. He’s a good father, a gentle father, a careful father, no wickedness, just an empty shell of goodness, like a father should be. His father is retired, and visits him on weekends—they play checkers, paint birdhouses, keep a distance but toast with spirits he can’t pronounce. Everything is good—it’s all good, all good. That’s not a sin, the priest should say but they laugh—it’s good to be good. Children are good, marriage is good, fathers are good, everything an iteration of good. By the time his confession is over and he’s well on his way out of the church mumbling I am heartily sorry, he believes his lies are true—he’s absolved into someone new, Luka married to Harriet, three kids, an empty shell, dreamily stumbling through a house with finished floors that’s actually just the sidewalk until a woman passing by with a two small children has to help him sit on the curb.

This image gives me Forever & Ever More by Nothing But Thieves vibes (music video was def inspo):

She asks if he needs something to drink, if he needs someone to call, and emerges with a half-empty bottle of sparkling water and a cell phone. She asks what’s wrong with his eye, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with anything—with eyes, with children, with sins, with confessions, with baptisms, with orange juice, with madeleines, with wickedness, with practicing how long he can breathe underwater because he knows it’s possible just like walking on it.

One of the children, hair pulled into two plaits secured with pearlescent butterfly bobbles, pokes at her mother and asks if he’s crazy. Her mother shushes her at the same time her older sister shows him a cool trick she learned with a toy convertible. Its wheels whir. Lonan gasps. The girl says, “Even crazy people think I’m gifted,” and wheels the car again. People stop to watch. Church bells gong an elegy he’s sure he’s heard before. The woman’s sparkling water dribbles from his mouth and dampens his dress shirt. Sun eclipses his face and eats at his throat like a parasite, like it knows all the unclean things about him, a watcher, an eyeball, a scorching little thing that bullets through his neck like the tooth of a wolf. The woman shushes her children and asks if he’s got a health problem, a drug problem, any problem, and he could say yes to all three but instead keeps repeating I am heartily sorry, I am heartily sorry. And when she does call someone, no one he knows, he leans against the cool pavement, cranes his neck to the sky, and parts his lips so the sunlight fills his mouth.

So that’s it for this update! I haven’t really been drafting lately, but I hope I can get more of this written because I love sharing!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #writingupdates #mothwork #feedinghabits #fostered

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alitheamateur · 6 years ago

Text

The Grind- Chapter 24

“Stop givin’ her your back, baby. You know betta, damn it!” Colton beat the cold canvas of the ring in constructive dissatisfaction, unintentionally distracting me from Tia’s chokehold attempt.

We were doing daily training now, with the match only two weeks away. Ryan, wasn’t exactly giddy towards accepting this challenge and jumping on this particular horse, the undoubted distraction it would from my column at the Pilot. I swore, and sensibly assured him I could juggle both hefty responsibilities, but the extreme lack of sleep on my calendar these days was proving an obstacle.

Cardio and weights with Colton routinely every morning in the basement of his place at 4:30 a.m., showered and off to work by 8, then grappling and fight training every evening with my trio. Cal would often sideline for emotional support, too. The fact that Mr. Ritter and I now shared a bed each night, his & her vanity’s in his newly remodeled bathroom thankfully equipped with a bathtub large enough for the both of us, and breakfast in his nook every morning made alone time easy, thankfully. I moved in swiftly after the details of my match with Katrina Bexley from Franklin Park were on paper, accepting Colt’s offer to share a home with him happily.

The contents of my place were relocated to our home within a couple of days, before the cool of Pittsburgh autumn disembarked. He let me sprinkle a feminine touch here and there without dispute, and even bought me my very own pink punching bag for the basement as a housewarming welcome.

“Livvy, c’mon! Take her down, you’ve got it!” My boyfriend turned trainer encouraged.

His part in my preparation had been a surprising positive for our relationship. I could tell, despite how frightened he was for my welfare, that the common ground of fighting we now shared was one he appreciated. He kept up my diet plan with me, avoiding to dare come home with pizza, beer, or burgers, and most nights we’d watch his old fight films, or any other female matches he could dig up online. He’d rest his back on the arm of the plush sectional I’d brought from my old apartment, I’d settle between his legs resting my head on the muscled pillow of his core, and he’d talk me through each move listing the do’s and don’ts.

I carefully counted the seconds, waiting for the exact moment to pummel Tia to the mat, fearing I would misstep. Then, like I’d been doing it my entire life, I locked her into a double leg takedown, and she grunted in discomfort when her head bounced like a ball off the canvas.

“Touché, LC! That was excellent. I’ll bust your nose if you do it again, but it was perfect,” Tia pulled the slimy mouthguard from her teeth as she stood to her feet.

The ring at the Temple had become as much my home as the one I was creating with Colton these days. I often showered in the locker room there at night after sessions, allowing me to crawl directly in bed after the short drive home if need be.

“Hit the sauna with me before you head out?” I asked Tia, hopefully.

We were on much sturdier ground now, and she’d even spent a handful of nights at our house for dinner. Colton and she were teetering a little on the line beyond civil, giving me hopes of a friendship for the two of them in the works.

She came out of her latest match victoriously, and Colt & I were there to support on the front row. However, her eye had suffered quite the beating in the bloody battle, so she was out of commission to compete for at least 6 weeks recommended by her surgeon.

“I’d love to. God knows I need it. But I have an early shift in the morning at the boutique, so I’m gonna head out.”

Colton snuck up my back stealthily during our conversation, wrapping his arms around my neck to kiss my cheek, and the sweat soaked hair stuck to it.

“I think I may know somebody else who has a few extra minutes to occupy the sauna with ya’, 2-1.”

“Ahhhh, fuckin’ hell, you sleeze. I’m out on that note,” Tia made a gagging reference then grabbed her bag to retreat.

Colton sat aside me on the oak bench of the spacious sauna, with my feet swung over his toweled groin so he could massage the aching, knotted muscles of my calves. It was quiet the first several minutes, so I took the peaceful silence as an opportunity to close my eyes for some long overdue rest. The two of us had already “christened” the very room a few weeks ago, so I knew that nagging plea from Colton had been satisfied and he wouldn’t be begging me. For at least another few days.

“Have you talked to your parents lately? Since you told them about the fight?” He asked, his words breaking through the thick, white steam of the sauna.

He had yet to meet my parents in person, but I settled for a Skype introduction before I moved in. Something felt eerily unsettling about moving with a man when my parents didn’t even know his hair color. My mother, however old, but very clearly not dead, almost yelped when Colton’s fetching smile came into view of the camera, and even dad complimented his “impeccable politeness.”

“Yeah. Dad texted the other day to ask if it would be streaming online so they could watch. I’m sorta shocked at how excited he is. I didn’t think he’d be over the moon about the idea of his daughter getting her face beat in.” I jerked when my personal, irresistible masseuse worked over a deep dwelling tender spot in my leg.

“I think you should have them out here, babe. He’s excited that your competing in somethin’ again, I betcha. They could stay in the guest room at the house,” he calmly, yet very suggestively stated.

Dad being proud of me again, and the thought of hearing his cheers from the stands, was a fond idea, no doubt. But, the possibility of having him come so far, only to get my sorry butt handed to me, and disappoint him once again, wasn’t keen to me.

“I love you, Colt, but we’re gonna have to agree to disagree here. I think having them here, to watch the fight, would just create way too many unnecessary nerves for me, ya’ know?”

He never said another word that night in the aspect of my mom and dad, and we made the journey home.

Later in the same week, Colton took me to a sweet spot in his precious ‘Burgh to help me check fight night attire off my checklist. He knew what I liked, and more importantly, what I needed to avoid feeling too constricted, and asked if he could call in a favor so the seamstress could have it made up when we arrived. The Pilot was sponsoring me, along with Temple Fitness, and Andrew tossed his hat in for The Grind, as well. I was grateful they’d been so generous with sponsorship donations, and considered it an honor to wear their banners.

The address Colton drove us to was a hole in the wall, and I would’ve considered it abandoned and drove on by had I passed the place myself. But he heeded the tailor was a gem, and one of the finest ladies he’d ever met. When we entered, a teeny bell atop the door jingled, and a teenage girl staring into a book at the counter raised a smile to greet us.

“Hey there, Tessa. How ya’ doin’?” Colton acknowledged the girl by her first name, clearly proving he frequented the place often.

She beamed a candy apple blush at Colton’s ‘hello’, her no older than 16-year-old heart skipping a beat. I didn’t blame her. When I was her age, Nathan Rogers made me quiver that very same way. Was there a single, heterosexual female within 5,000 thousand miles that didn’t want to lick my boyfriend like a melting popsicle?

“I think ya’ grandmother has something ready for me to pick up.” Colt leaned upon the counter, as if feeding into the poor girls drooling response. Much like my own reaction the very first time I laid eyes on him.

“She said you’d be by today. Let me grab it for you!” Tessa jumped from her seat to answer her favorite customers beckoning call.

“That poor girl almost tripped over her own tongue when you walked in here, Ritter. Don’t smile at her like that too much. Give the female population at break, damn it.” I nudged him once the girl disappeared behind the stock room door.

“You gave them a break when ya’ took me off the market and claimed me, baby,” he stuck his tongue out playfully and winked. Of course.

“Oh, what I service I did for my fellow man, huh?” I countered his cheekiness with my own gentle pinch to his toned rear end.

When the young clerk emerged, she unfolded a black pair of elastic, compression shorts trimmed in pink. The letters of my name printed boldly across the waistband, the young lady observed Colton and I, hoping to gauge any reaction of satisfaction to the product.

“I thought about having Sally put ‘Luscious Liv’ on ‘em, just to stick you with a shit ring name like the one I got.” Colton snidely declared.

“Thank God, you have a heart and decided against that one. For your sake, smartass,” I grabbed him by the face to shake him flippantly. “I love them though, Colt. And, I just might love you, too.”

“Appreciate it as always, Tess!”

Tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

A/N: Apologies for the brief chapter, my angels. I’ll make it up to you! I’ve got lots I need to be writing, but it seems my brain is on vacation. Doing the best I can for you all, and hopefully you’ll hang in there with me!

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tommy conlon #tomhardyfanfic #tom hardy fanfiction #tomhardyfanfiction #elizabeth olsen #thegrind

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toonman19 · 7 years ago

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"BOUNTY OF A BLACKBIRD"

Considering the polarizing effect Tyler's storyline has had, and the demonstrated effectiveness of his vigilantics with Cyrus...carnage was bound to be a diffused plot point. Here's an alternate scene take for 2x13....I've been going through some dark thoughts, and this was kind of an exorcism for those. I've got sharp teeth and rhino skin, so if you like, critique/share.

**AGAIN: **WARNING****The following is an alternate imagining of events in the thirteenth episode of 13RW's second season. It contains language and sexual violence in brief, but chilling description. If such reinterpretations disgust or trigger, please turn back now for your benefit.

For those with steel wills, and a small, sickening taste for retribution, read on:**(CONTEXT)**Tyler returns from camp, and is confronted by Monty's gang in the bathroom. He calmly repeats his earlier offering, but when Monty grabs him, Tyler pulls out a handgun and intimidates him into backing off him and Clay and to leave town for the school year's duration. Shortly after, he disappears from his house and from Liberty for several weeks.

April 20th: (CONTEXT)

(Before "The Night We Met" plays,* Bryce receives a text from an anonymous numbe*r): "Know you've been going through a lot...since you're coming to Hillcrest, just want you to know we're here for you. Come meet me in the men's room when you get a moment." (Drunk, Bryce shrugs and stumbles out to finish his drink.) (After the song has played, Bryce walks into the men's restroom and looks around. The stalls are all occupied, and the only sound outside the gym ambience is dripping water.) Bryce: OK...if you're in here, I got the text. Hello? Voice from Stall#2: Be right out, Walker. Bryce: ...how come you wanted to chat? Voice from Stall#2: ...naw, man. I don't need to talk. Bryce: ...hold up. You knew it was me, and "you'll be right out"? You didn't send the text? Voice from Stall#2: Oh no, I sent the text. Bryce: ...I swear to God, I'm not in the mood. (The sound of a creaking door opens several bootsteps behind Bryce. He slowly turns around tensely to behold an eerie figure. A top hat and a plague doctor mask with gold-spiked eye holes and a gold-tipped black beak stare back at Bryce. The rest of the figure is adorned in a black single-breasted overcoat, save for two white gloves with four domino dots stitched onto the sides.) Bryce: ...the fuck? Tyler: ...Nice tux. I really wasn't sure I could bank on seeing you here. But when Chloe was going on at Monet's about what would be a complimentary dress and corsage, well...like boyfriend, like girlfriend. People spill so much in the arms of comfort.

Bryce: So you were spying on my girlfriend?...well good for you. You found your excuse to go Tim Burton. Now how about a reason why I shouldn't smash your face through that stupid mask? Tyler: Easy there, big guy. We're guys, right? We can talk about the ladies all we want in here...sure you've got more admissions than you're comfortable keeping inside. Bryce: You know what, my intimate life's none of your business. And no offense, but that's not a subject you look qualified to tackle. (Tyler stares at Bryce unflinchingly) Tyler: Three months probation...all these free passes, and you're still hiding from the truth. Bryce: Why don't you take off that faggot mask and show me who you really are? Tyler: I'm about to. But I don't need to unmask for that. Bryce: See, if I had to-I'm guessing you're another one of Baker's sugar daddies....right? What, was S&M getup one of her depressive turn-ons? Tyler: ...this isn't about Hannah, Bryce. This (to mask) is what was always inside. The sapling within the pit. Bryce: What've you got in that overcoat? Another tape recorder? I got three words for you: two-way consent. Tyler: You really think I came here just to get another piece of evidence...the presiding pig-pen pal who set you loose in court already showed they don't care about stopping you. The school, your parents, every one of your "bros" padded you damn good....but they're outside, Bryce. You and me. The company of twisted men. Bryce: So what are you gonna do? Tyler: ...I kind of like the mystery element here. Take a wild guess. Bryce: ...a gun? (laughs tentatively, then steps two feet towards Tyler) The second you reach in your pocket, I'm going to break your neck. Right here. Tyler: (chuckles) I'm not gonna kill you, Bryce. God, if anything comes second to your cruelty, it's how boring you are without it. Bryce: (shoves Tyler back) What the FUCK are you playing at?! Is this just some pathetic game you came up with? Tyler: Y'know, funny story...when I was eight, I really got good at Monopoly. Granted, I usually paid out more than I brought in...but wherever I spread it just right, it sprung up in later rounds. I knew that boot camp was going to play the same pacifier techniques with me that Bolan did..and I managed to find some kindred spirits from our little town. Now you and I are more similar than we ever were. Bryce: Yeah? How you figure that? Tyler: ...I've learned to love a team effort. (The stalls behind them slowly open, and Bryce turns to see four tall boys in ski masks and goggles, draped in Hillcrest letter jackets, and carrying baseball bats, step out.) Bryce: No. Fuck this-no,no-!! (He pushes past Tyler and starts to storm out, but comes face to face with three more thugs striding in, two of them ski-masked women in bikini tops and leather pants carrying lead pipes in one arm, and one in a hooded sweatshirt carrying handcuffs and rope...all seven of them wearing black leather gloves. Tyler backs behind the bikini thugs, holding his arms out.) Tyler: It's like they say: A little green goes a long way out...and a little way in. (Bryce turns frantically as the thugs enclose on him silently) Maybe I paraphrased that last bit, but...what's a good American who can't revise? (He snaps his fingers, and the thugs charge him. Bryce, intoxicated, heaves and swings wildly, succeeding in clocking one forward bikini thug in the ribs, then grabbing her and throwing her against a left urinal. He lunges to grab Tyler, but the Hillcrest thugs seize him and begin slugging and kneeing him in the jaw, ribs, and side of his head with their bats. Five of them chokehold him, and charge a sink, raising and smashing Bryce's forehead into the basin, shattering the corner and bloodying his brows. Three manage to grab his flailing legs and pull them in front of him while the others pull his upper body back. The bikini thugs raise their lead pipes and bludgeon Bryce's kneecaps while a thug holds his arms over his mouth. As he screams and bites into the arm, Tyler motions to the sweatshirt thug, who pulls out a wax apple tied to a leather strap from his pocket.) Bryce: (with bleeding lips) RRRGHH!! You--pfft--pathetic-motherpfttkk-! Tyler: Quite a potty mouth on you. I think a time-out should work.(The sweatshirt thug takes the handcuffs, as two of the Hillcrest thugs grab both of Bryce's wrists with their hands and stretch them in front of the flush valve, crossing them and handcuffing to the valve. Taking the rope, two Hillcrest thugs pull Bryce's legs back towards the basin and tie them to the faucet. Bryce hangs midair, writhing and roaring.) Bryce: ALL OF YOU ARE DEAD! YOU HEAR ME?! Tyler: Yeah, that whining's not gonna make this go easier. (to Sweatshirt) Could you-? (Sweatshirt takes the wax apple and holds it up to Bryce's mouth.) Sweatshirt: Open*. (Bryce turns towards him and spits on his shoes. A Hillcrest thug lifts and smacks Bryce's feet with his bat, leading Bryce to yell.)* OPEN, NOW! (Furiously, Bryce opens his bleeding mouth as Sweatshirt shoves it in and pulls out the apple straps around the back of Bryce's head, clipping the two ends together. Bryce breathes and whimpers a muffled sound as Tyler steps forward.) Tyler: I had ammo stacked that could've slain every Liberty Tiger graduating. I could've launched a million "thoughts and prayers". But just like what you did to Hannah, to Jessica...the girl you actually claim you loved..it would've died out slowly. Numero 22 in 2018. This...is going to do more than freak out the monsters like you. It's going to turn stomachs, minds...fucking tides. And those that don't drown will burn. (Bryce squeals tearfully, pleading inaudibly as Tyler reaches inside his overcoat and untapes a broken pool cue hidden in the lining... with the top wrapped in barbed wire. Bryce, unaware, suddenly begins wailing, shaking desperately to pull his feet or his hands from their restraints. The bikini thugs begin giggling as they undo Bryce's belt...then his zipper...then his pants button. The Hillcrest thugs yank his pants back onto his ankles. As Tyler ducks under Bryce's legs with the cue, he stands up behind Bryce's exposed rear as the girls pull the cheeks apart, unseen by the viewer.) Tyler: I meant it when I said I wouldn't kill you. (The ambience builds to a near shriek, as Bryce freezes in terror.) I only came back to destroy you. (With a heave, he thrusts the cue forward and inward. Bryce can't scream...only weep, gape and gag as the backward thrust withdraws and repeats, withdraws and repeats...until Tyler leaves the cue suspended within Bryce's rear, and crawls back out. As the thugs chuckle, Bryce sobs with a helplessness and horror unawakened since his starved childhood. Perhaps a twinge of regret crosses his pupils.) Tyler: Well, I owe you one...I finally became what I was meant to be. All those Poloroids, all those tapes, the failures...they were just developing the whole picture. THIS is what moving on is, Bryce. And now we're both monsters...with just one difference. (As Bryce turns to Tyler seethingly, still soaked in blood and tears, he sees Tyler pull something else from his overcoat, and his eyes widen with pure horror.) Tyler: I'm the monster for a new beginning. Your means were always to your end. (Bryce begins shaking again, flailing wildly like a trapped animal, screaming desperately as Tyler bends down with a set of garden clippers and reaches forward.) (Inside Liberty Gym, Clay is seen sitting down next to Justin and Alex as a new song plays on the DJ stand. All of a sudden, Bryce's bloodcurdling shriek echoes throughout the hallway outside.) Justin: What the hell was--? (The shrieking gets louder as Zach comes over to them.) Zach: Jesus, did you guys-?! That wasn't just me.. Clay: No, I heard it too. Zach: Wait a minute...didn't Bryce just go outside before the last song? Clay***:*** (sullen) I wasn't paying attention. (Suddenly, buzzes echo on their phones.) Hang on, I got something... Justin: Yeah, so did... (As they pull their phones out, Courtney comes towards them.) Courtney: What in God's name is making that sound?? Alex: Maybe someone's passing a kidney stone? Zach: Hang on, lemme...(looks at phone, retches.) Justin: What? Zach: This is--did you guys get this?? (As all of them open the message, they stare in horror at the mass group photo text. In one, a puddle of blood has formed underneath Bryce's waist, and the word "PORKER" is painted with blood across his back. In the next, his head, covered by a loose-fitting pig mask, is forcibly turned towards the camera by Tyler's gloves with the caption:) Clay: (with trembling hands) "This little piggy went to Liberty...and now goes wee-wee-wee all the way onward. For the revolution to rise, innocence dies. Blood has been shed, but lives will be spared. We are listening...we are waiting...we are everywhere. ~SYL" (As Clay looks up in mutual alarm towards his friends, the sounds of screams and gasps fill the auditorium. As adults frantically attempt to calm the students over the microphone and in the audience, U2's "Raised By Wolves" begins playing in the background.) RaisedByWolves (Tyler and his cronies run giddily towards their pickup truck, hop into the back and driver's seat, and drive off as the sounds of sirens sound in the distance and approach Liberty from far away in the opposite direction.

(As the ambulance pulls up amidst flashes of red and blue, groups of students are gathered outside frantically calling their parents, friends, anyone to alert. On top of the Liberty High steps, a team of emergency medics carry Bryce out on a stretcher into the vehicle, as he continues to sob and shake wildly. From the bottom of the steps, Clay glances at him with a reproachful pity, then turns away to his friends.) Jessica: Alex, did you call..? Alex: Yeah. Half the department's on their way here for questioning. (Cyrus comes sprinting towards them.) Cyrus: Shit, you guys. It's--it's viral. (shows Justin his phone) (Justin takes it, and sees Bryce's pictures uploaded to Liberty High's Facebook page...with him tagged. Most reactions are shocked...some are laughing faces, and the comments section continues to bulge with alarm and excitement.) Justin: T-this is fucked up, right?? Clay: ...yeah. (All of them stare at the ambulance as it closes up and takes off into the distance while police vehicles join the ones present in front of Liberty.)

(CREDITS.)

==DISCLAIMER==This post is solely for fictional purposes, and is not an active recommendation towards suspected offenders or assailants of sexual abuse. It bears the dark musings of its author, but not his encompassed nature.

Viewing Clay and Tyler as counterparts is most effective when sending them down diverging destinies. As Clay chooses not to let the past destroy his future, Tyler builds his future upon the injustices of his past. Clay has begun healing, Tyler has chosen congealing.

And Bryce's humanity has been further diminished...yielding to depression? Insanity? Suicide? What are the effects of a retribution so heinous?

...I'm ready. Fire away.

#13rw #13 reasons why #bryce walker #tyler down #oneshot #revenge #fanfiction

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