#and maybe nobody will respond and this was just a letter out to the void | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

simplydannie · 11 months ago

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The siblings have done their time in prison… and now… they are released back from where they came… the under belly of Rageous. Life is different down here. More struggle, more loneliness… all they have is each other now. But their struggles follow them as they learn someone up top is still after them. And now the thug bosses of Under Rageous are all after them…But being poisoned by the Troll makes life a little harder.

Part 2 || Part 3

Security left them at the elevator. This was the only way to the underside of a Rageous… where the lower class… the nobodies lived. Those on top hardly batted an eye on what would happen down there. Each region had its own laws. Since Velvet and Veneer were originally from the under side of Rageous, well, they were being sent back… the laws there could deal with them.

…..DING…..

The elevator door slid open.

The siblings stood there in the silence. The sounds and lights of upper Rageous illuminated the darkened under Rageous cities… but it still wasn’t enough. They cautiously stepped out of the elevator… it closed behind them and went back up…. Here they were, back in square one.

All they were allowed to bring back down were a few belongings, and that was it. The siblings were completely de-glammed of their fame persona. Velvet still sported her high ponytail. Instead of her glittery outfits she settled for a red, oversized hoodie she wore over a skin tight black mini dress. Her heels were gone, instead she sported some black combat boots. On her wrist a pink crystal bracelet Veneer had gotten her years ago that the upper atmosphere of Rageous allowed her to keep.

The only one who seemed pleased to be out of his glimmer and glammed persona was her brother. Veneer still had his famous swooped up green hair. Like his sister, he also wore a red oversized hoodie and skinny wavy pants with black combat boots. He wore a purple beanie over his green hair… before their rise to fame, he’d always love to wear beanies… Velvet always hated it.

They stared into the dark silence of Under Rageous. Music and laughter could be heard far away. Velvet pulled up her hoodie and began walking in the direction they had instructed them too.

“Hey Vels wait!” Veneer called out as he grabbed his duffle bag running after her. She had ignored him all those months at the Mount Rageous Detention Center… she was still continuing to ignore him now.

“Vels….Velvet! Come on sis, how long are you going to keep ignoring me?” He called out as he followed close behind her. They walked into the main streets… still empty, voided of people.

“How about forever?….. Traitor.” She replied.

“That’s not fair! I had to do it.” He told her.

“No you didn’t you moron!” She pulled back her hoodie and turned round look him directly into his eyes. “We had everything Veneer! We were at the top!” She gestured to the lights above them…Mount Rageous. “Now we’re back where we started!”

“Just because we were on top doesn’t mean it was right. Didn’t you see yourself Vels? You were going mad! And our manger didn’t do anything to help us. She had us torture Floyd!” Veneers expression saddened… he missed the little Troll… unfortunately he never came to visit them… he never returned his letters. Veneer never blamed him, but he still felt hurt.

“And what now? We’re better off out here!” She exclaimed.

“No. But I have an idea. Maybe we could reach out to Floyd!” He said happily.

“You think he’ll have us back after what we did! What? You want to be a happy family gain?” She teased.

“… we could.” Veneer responded.

CLINK!

The sound of metal hitting the ground sounded in the distance…

“Maybe we should keep it down and just get home.” He said.

“Whatever.” She turned to keep walking.

THUD!

She walked straight into someone.

“My bad.” She said. Velvet looked to the see suspicious stranger she ran into. Pale skin, fawxhawk stringy black hair. When he smiled, he bared his sharp teeth… a popular cosmetic procedure done in Under Rageous… made them seem more menacing.

“Hey there gorgeous.” He hissed in a snake like voice. “Where you two headed?”

“Oh! We’re just going home- OOF!” Veneer began to speak until his sister elbowed him in the ribs.

“We’re just walking through. So excuse us…” Grabbing her duffle bag, she turned her brother around to walk the opposite direction. But in there way stood another Rageoun, same pale skin with dark pulled back green stringy hair. He wore some cyber type specks around his eyes….the two Rageoun thugs surrounded them. Veneer instinctively got in front of Velvet.

“Were they going to send us escorts?” Veneer turned to ask Velvet. She shook her head.

“We know who you two are. Heard who you were before your rise to fame, and now, well definitely somebody of high value now.” The sharp tooth Rageoun smiled.

“Didn’t you hear, we were frauds. Not really somebodies are we.” Velvet replied.

“Yeah well despite that, word is, someone up there is still interested in you two. They told my boss that they pay a really good price if we found you and brought you to them. Of course my boss says he’ll pay us double who ever found you. And what do you know, here you are.” He smiled a toothy grin.

The other thug grasped Veneer firmly by his arm, dragging him away from his sister. He struggled, trying to pull away. A dark vehicle was awaiting for them at the end of the street.

“Hey!” Velvet cried out as she reached for her brother. The sharped tooth Rageoun blocked her way.

“You can come peacefully or not. They didn’t care what condition we brought you in, so long as you were alive…. Kind of.” He laughed. He grabbed a Velvet by the arm pulling her along with him. Looking frantically about she grabbed the nearest thing that came in her grasp… a metal pipe.

SMACK!

She hit the thug behind the head. He cried in pain releasing her. Velvet quickly moved away. She ran towards the other thug who still held Veneer.

SMACK!

She hit the thug upside the head knocking him unconscious.

“You okay?” She asked as she helped up her brother.

“Well that’s a nice welcome isn’t it.” He said sarcastically.

“Let’s get our bags and AH-“ She was yanked by her ponytail and pulled backwards. Velvet smacked the light post hard, knocking the wind out of her, sending a pain down her back and head. Through blurred vision she could see her brother struggling with the sharp toothed thug. The thug was bigger, stronger… he had Veneer pinned to the ground. Velvet could see him pull something from the side of his boot…. A knife.

“I wonder how much that face will be worth if I marked it up a bit.” He said gliding the knife across Veneers face.

At that instant something overcame Velvet. Her eyes began to glow pink…. A sudden rush of anger…

“VENNIE!” Before she knew it was behind the thug.

SMACK!

She hit him.

SMACK.

She hit him again.

“DONT YOU EVER TOUCH HIM AGAIN!” She screamed as she kept beating the thug with the metal pipe.

“Vels!” Veneer screamed. But she couldn’t hear him… she was in a blind rage. “Vels! Please stop!… VELS IM OKAY!”

She stopped. Her breathing was heavy. As she calmed down, the pink around her eyes faded away… it was then she could see what she had done.

“…oh…my….god.” She murmured…. The thug lay there…beaten up… and motionless.

“Is he…Oh my gosh!” Veneer began breathing quickly, tears forming in his eyes, his anxiety kicking in. Velvet turned to her brother to try and calm him down.

“I don’t know what came over me… he was… he was going to hurt you Ven…. I couldn’t stop.” She turned back to look at the guys lifeless body…wherever they to came from, there had to be more.

“Veneer look at me. Veneer!” She grabbed his face looking him dead in the eye. “You’re going to have to trust me. Let’s get our bags and run. Just follow me.” She threw the metal pipe she had and grabbed her duffle bag. “Ven please come on!”

It took her brother a moment to recollect his thoughts… she was protecting him… that’s all she was doing… right? He quickly grabbed his duffle bag and took his sister’s hand. They both ran off deep into the under parts of Rageous.

They were alone. They didn’t know where to go, where to hide…and they were in trouble.

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prinzrupprecht · 4 months ago

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To Live or Die

Chapter 3 - conscious of feelings

Please read the previous parts if you’re new! Click on synopsis and see all the chapters linked.

Synopsis

TW: hurt/comfort, a bit of angst

WC: 1013

A week had passed since you sent your response back to Souji. You had written the usual things to lift the awkward tension through the letter. You remember clearly what you had written before sending it. ‘I normally feel empty and still do since the war and how things left off. Things are okay, maybe not as great as before.’ You tried to be as vague as possible to not let your emotions out.

‘The new government had started trading rapidly with the westerners and opened a port cargo centre nearby. Business is the same and boring I guess. My uncle just rents dock space to private boat owners and sells equipment.’ Your hands were shaking while you wrote a bit about your new life while leaving out the crime that was circulating in the area to not worry him or Kondo. You loved how he used to worry about you. Things felt different as if a void accumulated in your heart.

Your closing statement was you saying how sorry you were for lashing out and that you wished him the best. ‘I’m glad you seem to be doing well yourself, I honestly should be the one to apologize for the things I’ve said before departing and regret it all. I hope we can move past it. I’m sorry again, Souji.’ You were unsure if you were honestly doing the greatest without him.

You were starting to regret sending the letter without hinting you wanted to be a family again like the old days. You sighed while sitting up in your empty room, you weren’t happy and were pretending to be.

It has been a week since you sent it and you were honestly unsure if he even wanted to respond back and maybe it was for the best.

~~~ Okita’s POV

When he saw that you had responded back, a joyful feeling exploded in his chest but he was nervous at what you had written back. He still didn’t hesitate to open it but what he was feeling was a gratitude relief to your new custom life. Yet, something else felt dissatisfying about how you weren’t curious about him as much as he was with you.

He liked how clean your handwriting has always been which was about it. He wanted some kind of reassurance that you still cared a lot for him as he did for you.

Did you move on? The question sent his mind into turmoil. He wants you to be happy no matter what, but with someone else? He doesn’t know how well he would take that. He remembers the day before he left how you begged him to run away from the war and to be with you forever like how you two wanted. Yet, things could’ve changed. He was clinging onto hope that you still wanted to be with him.

Kondo had left him alone since Souji requested to be left alone to think. He wondered whether it was worth sending another letter back or did you not care anymore. Why didn’t you say you missed him? Did you miss him? He was mad at himself for how things were between you two. He crumpled the piece of paper with frustration.

Souji decided he wasn’t going to send another letter back. Instead, he decided that he would go down there to the port of Yokohama to see you in person. He didn’t want to give up on that possible future with you. Maybe he felt a bit hopeless over it.

Kondo would likely support his decision and accompany him because your uncle was a great friend of his. Yet still, he was unsatisfied with many things. The loss of many of his friends and Kondo is suffering with keeping his dojo due to taxation and nobody wanted to train at the Tennin rishin-ryu due to the ban on katana’s, but you’re allowed to still have dojos for other martial art purposes. He wanted to help Kondo out as much as possible to keep the dojo since it was his home.

Souji didn’t want to say he felt more alone but things certainly felt more different.

Kondo had returned later that evening from a long day of work and meetings to check on him since he was worried. He wondered what the letter had said to put him in such a foul mood. Yet, he was very calm and wanted to give him space if that’s what he needed. Souji was sitting outside holding one of the stray cats. “Oh, you’re back.” Souji smiled back at Kondo. It was like he was different.

“Hmm, ya.” Kondo crossed his arms and stared at the kids playing across the street.

“I have decided what I want to do.” Souji turned his head to look at his father figure.

“You have?” Kondo’s eyes were closed. He already knew what he was going to say.

“Ya, I want to see her. Even if it’s just one time and if she tells me to leave afterwards, I’ll have my answer. I just— I just want to know something,” Souji stumbled his last sentence. He did want answers to a lot of things whether he mattered to you still.

“I see… was this something you want to do alone?” Kondo would have to work around their schedules to find a time to go down to Yokohama. It would be an 8-hour walk on foot.

“If it’s possible, I’d like for you to come with me.” Souji smiled up at Kondo. It would’ve been hard to say no to him since he cared a lot for him. Even Kondo was wondering why you’ve never returned as well. He took and raised you both without hesitation.

“Give me a few days, I’ll tell the boss something came up and we can go down there.” Kondo placed a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that he wasn’t alone.

Souji was a bit nervous to know the truth as to why you were avoiding him. Even the letter felt forced or so he hoped he was wrong.

Proceed to the next part

➤ Chapter 4

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #record of ragnarok x reader#okita snv #okita soji x reader #okita souji x reader #okita ror #okita soji #record of ragnarok okita

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years ago

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Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #splendorman #trenderman #ticci toby #nurse ann #masky #cp masky #marble hornets #lost silver #puppeteer #x reader

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infinitegalahad · 4 years ago

Note

YOUR PROMPTS ARE OPEN!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 im so excited this time has come! you know i'll probably send a few but for my first i'd like to request #'s 33 and 50 from the fluff prompts with my dear shifty, of course. mucho love 2 u!

A LITTLE PIECE OF HOME

Summary: Before your childhood friends Popeye and Shifty are shipped out, Popeye brings his new camera and decides to make some last minute memories.

Word-Count: 1.9k

Prompts: “can i keep it, the photo of us?” and “look at me.”

A/N: pearl, my love, my life-HI! your little request was beyond fun to write! this piece is short and sweet in (hopefully) all the right places-anything for you! shifty is our sweet sunshine boy and it was a pleasure to write for you. i hope you request more prompts soon my love-thanks you for being there for me. your messages always brighten my day. i hope you enjoy ❣️✨

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

It was the perfect day outside. In Virginia, it felt like summer all year round. But today was different-it was absolutely gorgeous. The sun shined bright as the heat burned down on your exposed shoulders with the sun making your skin become pink. The day seemed too perfect for it to end so soon.

You, Darrell, and Robert had been friends since the three of you were in diapers. You all grew up in a small tight-knit town; living down the same dirt road that went for miles on end, going to the same Sunday church and packed diner for pancakes and milkshakes, walked all over the train tracks, the three of you were conjoined at the hip. Wherever they went, you went with them.

Robert was the one who brought the group together. In second grade, Robert and Darrell had been playing during recess one day and saw you, sitting all by yourself with tears coming out of your big eyes and your hair and dress all covered in dirt. Darrell saw you and ran over. He didn’t know you, but he hated seeing other people sad-so not only were you crying, but Darrell burst into loud sobs, followed by Robert. When you had stopped crying, Darrell and Robert took you to their little play corner and got wet clothes, rubbing the dirt from your face. The boys in your school had been teasing you and kicked dirt in your direction, messing up the outfit your mama had made for you. While Darrell attempted to “make you pretty” again, he asked for your name and asked if you had any friends. Once you told him your name and that you had no friends, he said that he and Robert were your new friends from now on.

And they truly were.

Now the three of you we’re in your twenties-still living in that small town in Virginia. Each of you had changed in appearance. Popeye grew into his round-face, his thin hair receding, but his dimples and slurred accent still remaining the same. Shifty, well to you-he was handsome. He hadn’t changed one bit, but every day he got even more handsome to look at it. He grew from the sweetheart who cried with you in second grade to the boy who offered to take you platonically to prom since nobody was “in their right mind” to do so. The boy with the sun-tanned skin and comforting smile was your best friend and the love of your life. But how could you tell him? Almost every girl wanted him. Bless their hearts, but he was too shy for his own good-and so were you. Considering your experience with men, you decided it was best if you and Shifty would stay friends. The two of you had done some for nearly a decade. But as you got older, it got harder to contain those feelings. Whenever you looked at him, you felt like you were going to throw up your heart.

The three of you all believed that you would live in this town for the rest of your lives and until you were all old and real adults. But that all changed in an instant.

Robert and Shifty had signed up for the Paratroopers and we’re being shipped out to Toccoa early next morning. They had broken the news to you last night at Shifty’s house with his poor Ma, breaking into tears. Just like his ma, Shifty’s big eyes began to burst into tears, which made everybody cry. Whenever he got emotional, it always reminded you of a younger and more innocent Shifty, the one that never missed a single shot and loved nature. Your one, true friend who you could tell anything to, the one who knew your small quirks and deepest secrets. The one man that you loved more than anything in the world that was now slipping through your fingers.

In that very field you sat in, you stayed silent most of the time. Shifty had his rifles slung over his shoulders, donning light blue overalls as he and Popeye walked around, casually conversing about being Paratroopers. You hide behind the tall grass, slowly picking the petals off of a bright daisy, muttering to yourself. You watched his every move; his lips moving with a smile, his smooth skin glittering in the sun, and his chocolate brown hair becoming golden in the bright sun.

You had become so lost in your own little world that you didn’t even notice Shifty, standing right next to you. He poked your shoulder and saw you looked up with a confused face, progressing your surroundings.

“Y/n? You okay?” He asked, bending down with his hands on his knees. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

You looked up and subtle smiled to cover up your sadness. “I am, Darrell. Just a little sleepy.”

Darrell held out a free hand in front of your face, “Well, you wanna with me just a little?

You silently responded and took his hand, which lingered for longer than you wanted it to. His hands had been so worked, his skin remained as soft as silk. His fingertips finessed against your palm. The two of you walked side by side as you walked side by side, the sounds of the wind blowing through the tall grass filling the silent void.

Darrell was a little concerned by your quiet behavior. You were normally very energetic about him and Robert, but you were as silent as a mouse today. It was your last time truly with him and for Robert for one month, one year, who knew how long they would be gone for. Darrell maybe would never see you again, the small town the two of you grew up in, your bright smile. He wanted to see that every single day; whether that be waking up to you in the morning or having a little piece of you overseas.

Darrell was very in touch with his emotions, unafraid to conceal them. His ma always taught him to be honest, and that’s what he did best. So when you were down, he had to fix it before it was too late.

“Y/n?” He said in a low tone, turning over to see you, unresponsive as you looked down at your fiddling hands. You were hurting, and it broke his heart to see what. “Can you tell me what’s bothering you?”

You were unresponsive as you kept your eyes down, your hands scrunching with the fabric of your flowy skirt. He had done nothing wrong-he never had done anything wrong to you ever. But it was hard to think that the next time you would hear from Shifty-it could be a military letter and announce that he had died a hero. Just another number in a never-ending war. And that you, a fool, never confessed how you felt to your childhood best friend.

Darrell stopped in his tracks and let out a soft sigh, tenderly grabbing your forehand to stop you as well. His free hand moved to the edge of your chin, gently tilting it sideways so you would make eye contact with him.

“Look at me,” Darrell politely requested, his voice shaky.

You followed his request and looked at him, seeing that he was fighting back tears. You weren’t the only one, which made you feel relieved and even sadder.

“Oh Darrell...you know if I start with my waterworks, you’ll be followed’ after,'' You remarked and let out a dry chuckle, masking the incoming tears. It was too late and a stray tear escaped from Shifty’s eye, his pink lips quivering as he was speechless.

Just like you had stated, two tears came from your eyes as you used a finger to wipe him away. “Told ya’ so. Look at us, just little kids.”

Darrell rested in your palm, rubbing against it like a cat would with a pillow. “Like it was yesterday. I remember washing the dirt from your cheeks so I could make you look pretty again. Don’t know why I ever said that-you still are pretty.”

You patted his cheeks as you lead his hands down into your own, squeezing them. Darrell and you stood in the open field, hands tangled with each other, the wind blowing against you as the grass tickled your bare feet. Not only did the humidity make you feel warm, but so did the growing heat in your cheeks.

“How do you tell someone you love them?” Darrell casually questioned to break the silence that was growing in the wind.

A smile crept on your face, “Just like your ma would say, you just gotta be honest with yourself.”

“Well, I think I love you. No, I don’t think. I know it.” Darell declared, holding your hands close to his chest. “I wanted to let you know. I didn’t wanna ever tell you.”

You tilted your heart and let out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, Darell...I…”

The sudden click and flash of a camera before blinded you and Shifty. You squint your eyes as they burned with flashes of white light as Shifty pulled you into his chest, his hands protectively resting on your lower back.

It was just Robert, holding his brand new camera over his eyes, his thin eyebrows raised and mouth wide open in shock. Instead of reacting, Shifty and you stayed close together, both red in the face along with Robert.

Robert took the photo out of the camera and shook it, tucking it into Shifty’s pocket. You opened your mouth to speak, but Robert beat you to it.

“I’ll leave you lovebirds to it,” Robert said as he turned around, walking away in a hurry, “I’ll see ya at the Power’s for supper-I hope.”

Once Robert had left, Shifty dug his fingers into his pocket to retrieve the photo. You leaned against his chest and observed the photo. Robert had caught the two of you in the middle of your confession, hands tangled as your eyes met. Both of you had smiles on your faces-and Darrell looked amazing-even if he was in black and white.

“That’s not a bad photo of you,” You complimented as you leaned into his nice smelling chest, “You looked handsome.”

“And you looked pretty-but you always do.” Shifty shot back, planting a kiss into your face. He observed the photo and then looked down at you to compare, a big smile appearing on his face like a child on Christmas morning. Shifty had found his answer, and it was not only right in front of him but in his fingertips.

“Can I keep it, this photo of us?” Darrell said in your hair as he shook the photo, “When I need a piece of home. I’ll give you my whole heart, anything you want, darlin’.”

You nodded your head, “Yes, you can. You don’t need to give me anything-but can I ask you something?”

“Yes, darlin’. Anything,” Darrell stated as he looked down at your adoringly. He looked like he wanted to give you the whole world in that moment, If he could have, he would have.

“We only got a night left together for a long time. Can we spend it all together? Just one night?”

Shifty flashed his bright smile and kissed each knuckle on your hand, leaving a small mark. “Yes ma’am.”

Once Shifty had neatly stored the cherished photograph of you into his breast project, the two of you grabbed each other's hands and walked down the gravel road, back to the Power’s residence for supper. You leaned against his shoulder, letting him lead you. Whenever Darrell had gone, you would follow along. You knew your last few hours together were short, but if it was your last time ever seeing Darell-you wanted to make the most of it.

#carrie writes #shifty powers #shifty powers x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #shifty powers imagine #band of brothers imagine

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unlocktxt · 4 years ago

Text

♫ mellifluous | k.hk ♫

kai kamal huening

❦ genre: angst, fluff, greek gods au, hueningkai x reader, apollo kai!au, modern

❦ description: all y/n has ever known was death, but when encountering an upbeat god that starts to change.

❦ word count: 6,478

❦ warning!!: mentions of illness, death, somewhat in depth about the death and illness, curses, mentions cult like gathering, puking, blood. maybe some swearing

the calluses on your finger tips burned as you continued to run your skin against the strings on the fingerboard. your eyes were concentrated, focusing on the notes while the bow glided against the strings. the vibrations sending out a high-pitched melody into the warm air. you had practiced for hours, weeks even, and you couldn’t get enough. it eased the pit in your stomach that never seemed to fill.

you ended the melody slowly and gracefully, before letting out a deep breath. when you placed your violin in its case, you ignored your shaky hands and moved to your water on the side of the desk. it only took one big gulp before you heard a knock at your door. you hadn’t been expecting anyone, so the knock threw you off guard. nonetheless, you walked towards the door, opening it only to be met with the wind. you assumed a few kids were playing ding dong ditch, however, the piece of paper taped to your door told you other wise. you just had to hope it wasn’t a water cut-off notice.

your slender fingers tore the yellow tinted paper off of the door, skimming over it.

SESSION FOR HEALING!

it read in big bolder letters, you couldn’t help but scoff- wondering how many people they were trying to scam. the more you read the less you thought it was a scam, more like a religious group recruiting others... so a cult. you didn’t bother looking at the paper again before you crumbled it up, tossing it in the trash.

it was only six in the afternoon and you were already exhausted, leading you to the fridge for a quick snack. when you opened the white door the cold air refreshed you until you realized the lack of food. the only thing standing out to you being the small jar filled with pickles. you knew they wouldn’t be the best choice, but you needed something to tie you over... at least until you went to the grocery store.

your hand wrapped around the top, gripping hard as you tried to open the jar. no matter hard hard you tried twisting the top, it wouldn’t budge. at this point the jar only seemed to be taunting you, reminding you of just how weak you were. you don’t know what hit you, but before you knew it the jar was flying towards the ground- shattering causing the pickles to be wasted. your clenched fist was released as you let out a breath, you shouldn’t of wasted your energy like that, but it felt good. the only downside to this was that you no longer had food in your house- make that two downsides as you grabbed a trash bag preparing to clean up.

the glass from the jar was scattered on the floor, making it harder for you to pinpoint where each piece was. you carefully picked up each piece, but hissed in pain after the sharp glass slid against your already torn up finger tip. the piece of glass fell to the floor as you brought the bleeding finger to your mouth, sucking away the blood as you reached to the cabinet containing the bandaids. after you lazily wrapped your finger in the bandaid, you finished cleaning up. the wasted pickles causing your stomach to growl.

“maybe i should just go to the store right now.” you mumbled, a frown on your face when you acknowledged that you wouldn’t be able to take your nap.

despite wanting to take a nap, you knew you shouldn’t go to bed hungry... or was it just the fact that you knew your stomach wouldn’t let you? either way you already decided it was time to get some groceries, so you grabbed your plain keychain with your car keys and slipped on your slippers. you struggled to drag your feet over to the door and couldn’t miss your jacket that hung right beside it. being someone who got cold really easily, you decided to bring it, despite the warm and humid weather outside.

the sleep deprivation seemed to get ahold of you, your mind and body in autopilot for certain parts of the journey. it didn’t bother you though because there was nothing that ever really interested you. why would you want to see the world that’s even more colorful than you, despite being trashed by its very own inhabitants?

you used to try to be a positive person, but lately things just seem helpless. you were tired of the doctor visits and sometimes just debated running away from everything. a nice escape to the beach or something. your thoughts enveloped you the whole ride, so when you got to the grocery store and nearly ran a boy over... let’s just say you were shot back to earth.

the young, brown haired boy wasn’t fazed at all, continuing to walk towards this big orange tent by the grocery store. your eyes were darting around, thinking that you really traumatized this boy. although a part of you wanted to leave him be, the angel on your shoulder really pushed for the very opposite, which is why you decide to park in the closest spot.

you barely even had time to get out of your car because he was already at the entrance of the tent. your weak and tired body couldn’t catch up even though you were putting a lot of effort into your speed walk.

“i should’ve just honked at him.” you mumble as you stand in front of the tent. it was sketchy! why in the hell would this tent be right here?

you wish that you would’ve just ignored him, but at this point you’ve come to far to go back now... even if it was just a few yards. you were out of breath okay? chasing after him wasted your already depleted energy.

with shaky hands, you took a deep breath and walked inside the tent. although it seemed huge, it was pretty small. around twenty people sit in seats as they listen to some dude standing in front of a podium. your stomach felt a little queasy because of how uncomfortable you were. you just wanted to find the dude and get out of here, so you scanned around the room until you saw his plant like crown accessory. he sat at the back, all alone in the corner.

you let out a small breath as you struggled your way to him. he didn’t even acknowledge your presence and you were tired of the preacher like man staring at you. you huff as you sit beside the handsome man.

“hey... are you okay?” you whisper to him as you eye the preacher that was talking nonsense. oh god... did you just walk into a cult meeting. the boy didn’t answer you, only furthering your suspicions.

“that’s my cue to leave.” you decided that he was ok because well he walked all the way here and you were not willing to be sacrificed.

“do you believe?” his sudden melodic voice made you jump. nobody turned their attention to him despite how loud he was... yet you couldn’t even stand up without getting glares.

“believe in what?” he was cute... that you had no problem with admitting, although he may be in a cult. he sparked your curiosity... though you blamed your questions on making sure he was okay.

“what he’s saying,” he pointed to the preacher, causing your eyes to look between the two of them, “that gods... specifically apollo... is real?” his face didn’t seem to have any emotion to it, but his voice was utterly decorated with curiousity.

you were dumbfounded at the question, but then again you did end up with all of these followers. “no... i’m atheist.” the boy nodded, taking your words into account.

“and why’s that.” he was no longer paying attention to what was being said from the preacher and was now staring into your soul. if you had to describe him as he was now... you would say that he was warm... like the sun.

“if there was truly something out there that could solve people’s problems in the blink of an eye... it should’ve happened by now.” you look down at your thin and veiny hands that only reminded you of your troubles. “why do you want to know?”

“i was wondering why not many people believe anymore. now i see... i could’ve found that answer out by myself, but maybe you could’ve had a better answer.” you were kind of offended by his response, scoffing as you rolled your eyes.

“oh yeah? then why do you believe?” you raised your eyebrow at the young man, challenging his beliefs. he didn’t respond, only smirking as he looked back at the preacher... who just so happened to be staring right at you.

your heart sank and you felt sick to your stomach at the attention on you. you didn’t even know what happened, but you were starting to sweat, your hands getting clammy due to nervousness.

“you have been chosen! today you will be healed young one!” your pulse accelerates. your breathing gets heavy. your eyes dart around the room. you regret coming in here. everyone’s eyes were on you before they looked down, chanting a few sentences in ancient greek over and over again. your mind told you to leave, this was way too much for you.

in a state of panic, you didn’t notice the boy next to you remaining quiet before rubbing his hands together. the panic subsided instantly and was replaced by the empty black void that took over your vision.

when you opened your eyes it was still dark, but despite the silent and black void... you didn’t feel any panic. you were unnaturally calm even when a woman with long shimmering hair walked towards you. she was glowing in the dark.

she felt oddly familiar and you wondered if you’ve ever seen her before.

“he’s your only chance at survival.” her voice was soft and delicate, but her words left you confused.

“what do you mean?” you asked, walking towards her. she was wearing a white drape.

“he who placed the curse... it is he that must reverse the curse.” she was speaking nonsense and you started to grow panicked. it felt like your time was running out.

“who?” you asked, trying your best to make it to the woman that only got further and further away from you. she didn’t answer.

“who!” you yelled now, demanding an answer in desperation.

“apo-”

you gasp for air as you spring up from the floor. the people around you didn’t show any signs of worry, only looking at you in expectation. for a split second you forgot where you were.

you rushed to get out of that place, not wanting to suffer from their delusions. as you rushed away, you missed the boy with the laurel wreath watching you with challenging eyes.

you took in a deep breath at the fresh air. it wasn’t as stuffy and creepy as it was in that tent. you even wondered if you should just go home. it had already been an hour and your body was heavy from the exhaustion... but with your body you knew you couldn’t last without food. despite the exhaustion, you made your way to the grocery store. you’d only get the bare necessities, like a few frozen foods and instant ramen.

the trip around the grocery store was exhausting, but your mind escaped your body thinking about what just happened. that... dream just felt a little to real, but on top of that... you were curious as to what the woman meant.

“apo...” you mumbled, trying to think of anything that could remind you of. the chilling air coming from the fridge caused you to wrap your arms around your body.

“apollo 13?” you question, grabbing the frozen meat. “no... apollo 13 isn’t a pers-” like a lightning bolt, it struck you.

the memory of the worshippers in the tent came rushing back. “apollo.” was he real or were you just losing your mind?

you weren’t really going to let a simple dream convince you... right?

you shook your head as you make your way over to the self check out in a daze. there’s no way.

you were getting anxious. impatient. curious. what was it that you were feeling? you never really got too emotional because... what was the point? it wouldn’t magically heal you, but for once... you allowed yourself to take in these emotions.

hope. you had hope that maybe... just maybe somebody could help you. the feeling consumed you, making your whole body jittery. the line infront of you just seemed to get longer and longer.

why were you so excited about this? I shouldn’t get my hopes up. and your mood deflates. you’ve tried everything. who’s to say that this won’t be a bust?

with the lack of energy, you slowly waited for the line to get shorter.

you could hardly remember much of yesterday, the exhaustion took over you quickly the other day. you almost didn’t put up your groceries, which would’ve sucked for the frozen food.

even thought the rest of the night was forgotten, you remembered one thing. apollo and the dream you had. you researched some about him last night and sure enough... after getting confused on what he was supposed to be the god of... you managed to see that he could help you. what stood out to you being “god of healing, medicine, and knowledge.”

that was all you really needed... you don’t know why he had to be so complicated.

despite destroying your hopes yesterday, you still wanted to try. you may be able to ignore the hope hidden within, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

you wanted to try making an offering and see if that would help, but in all honesty... you didn’t know what you were doing. you read a little bit on the internet and decided to roll with it.

you made a small space for this and lit the candle. you violin was next to you, as you heard he loves music. taking a deep breath you started to pray.

“...may you accept this offering.” you grabbed a laurel leaf and lit it, placing it into the small cup in front of you. then you grabbed your violin.

you took a deep breath before correcting your posture. you planned on playing from your heart, after a long silence the bow was placed onto the strings. once more, the melody coming from your instrument soothed your aching body. although the melody would sound melancholic, it seemed to ease the gloomy room.

it didn’t take you long to finish, becoming filled with despair. you knew that it wouldn’t happen all at once, but you felt nothing. everything was the way it was before, cold and empty.

sighing, you placed your violin in its case and blew out the candle.

“y/n, I think we both know you could’ve done a way better job than that.” a soft, but bright voice came from behind you, causing your eyes to expand. you turned around quickly, staring at the beautiful boy in front of you.

“y-you!” you stutter, recognizing the bot from the other day. the creepy one that you almost ran over.

“you? excuse me? i have a name you know.” he pointed behind you, towards the mini alter. you could only stare blankly.

“a-apollo?” you were stunned looking at the boy. there was no way... yeah you heard apollo was stunning, but shouldn’t he be older?

“the one and only. you know... usually when people call upon me... there’s more respect.” he sat on the couch, his laurel wreath sat eligently on his head. the perfect features, but his clothes... a hoodie and sweatpants.

“holy shit... you’re real. oh mighty apollo forgive me!” you didn’t know how to react. you didn’t do enough research for this!

“...yeah please call me hueningkai... if not then it gets a little awkward. i normally don’t show myself like this, however i was curious as to why an atheist would ask for me. you seemed pretty set on not believing, but here you are... asking for my help.” he only looked at you, who sat on the floor trying to process what was happening.

“look... i know this is kind of uncalled for, but you seem to be my last hope. i had... a dream i guess that led me to you.” you looked at him with pleading eyes, begging him not to leave you.

“were you not helped yesterday?” he asked, his head tilting to the side with his eyebrows furrowed.

“no?” you questioned. you didn’t feel any different, in fact you felt worse. “i’ll just say it... i’m dying.”

“so... you want to escape death? sorry I’m not the one for that... i don’t even think you could get hades or thanatos to help you on that.”

“no... that’s not the point. i can accept death, but something tells me this isn’t normal. i don’t think it’d be a fair death-”

“i mean... sometimes dying just has to happen... I’ve witnessed a bunch of... unfair deaths, but that doesn’t mean they can’t happen.” he sighed, getting up and walking to your fridge. you tried to explain the uneasy feeling you have about this sickness, but he wasn’t giving you a second thought.

“i- please listen to me. it’s an illness. I’m dying from an illness that the doctors can’t treat... it’s nothing they’re familiar with. they just think it runs in the family. i’ve tried everything, so i came to you... thinking you could heal me.” you had stood up by now, speaking to his back.

“look y/n... i tried to heal you already, just to prove that I do in fact exist, but it didn’t work. i could try again, but i don’t think there’d be a difference. instead i could find out if there’s anything going on behind the scenes.” you should be upset, depressed even, but you expected death at a young age. he offered to look into it for you and... that should be enough for you.

“okay... that works. thank you hueningkai.” you were looking at the ground now. that was all you could do.

hueningkai took this moment to turn around, water in his hand, looking at your slumped figure. despite being alive, you already looked dead. though for a dying person you surely looked beautiful.

“okay, but if i’m going to help you i can’t be around an energy depleter.” you looked up to find him adorning a small smile... sympathy.

you rolled your eyes “i mean... i am dying there’s not much to have energy about.” hueningkai gasped at that.

“that is so far from right. haven’t you seen those people who try to live the last years of their life like no other? you’re still pretty young, so use that to your advantage.” it was very easy to tell that he would probably never die. it’s kind of terrifying, but you didn’t want to freak yourself out anymore.

“listen ap- hueningkai... you’re a god. you just don’t understand what it’s like.” you sigh, taking in hueningkai’s vicious glare. if you weren’t going to die soon then it would’ve scared you.

“no y/n,” he spat storming his way over to you, “you listen here. you are a human. you don’t understand half of what goes on in the world around you. you asked for my help, so remember that.” he towered over you, his stare and words holding you accountable.

“well... i don’t need it anymore.” you looked down, intimidated by his stare.

he chuckled ill humorously, and grabbed your chin forcing you to look up into his burning eyes, “i came and offered my help, which by the way, i didn’t have to do. however, since you suddenly seem like you want to die so suddenly i can have that arranged.”

you take it back... you are terrified. you’ll admit it now. you’re scared of dying.

“i’m sorry hueningkai... what i said was uncalled for. thank you for doing what you can to help me. I... I just...” you tried holding back your tears, your voice getting quieter. you looked away from hueningkai, not wanting him to see this.

you heard him sigh. “don’t give up y/n. i’ll figure some stuff out. just... don’t talk to me like that.” you slowly felt his fingers entertwine with yours before his thumb started rubbing circles on your hand.

it surprisingly comforted you, telling your body to relax as you inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly. your cheeks turned rosy, but you had to remind yourself that he was a god.

“now... before all of that... how about we go and show you what the world offers.” you looked up at him to see him gleaming with an eye smile.

cute.

you furrowed your eyes at the building in front of you. the gorgeous boy who seemed to glow in his grey hoodie had his arms out wide, presenting the karaoke building with a smile.

“karaoke... in the early afternoon.” you stated as you moved to look at the semi empty building called Keen On Karaoke.

“they couldn’t even come up with a better name for it.” you said as you pursed your lips.

hueningkai sighed as he joined beside you once more, wrapping his arm around your neck. “i mean i knew you were a... pessimist, but i didn’t think you’d be this bad.” he guided you in, more excited than ever.

“and... why karaoke?” you questioned before walking in a private room for the two of you. you sat on one of the tiny sofas, waiting for his answer.

hueningkai kept his smile that just so happened to be a little cocky. “well... i am the god of music.”

“ah right... one of the many things, but why karaoke?” you were genuinely curious, even if it was a simple answer. he grabbed the control before sitting next to you. even in the dark room his features stood out, his jawline clean and cut with perfect accuracy. he really is no joke.

“i mean... i’ve heard about it from the many many bustling cities and i wanted to try it out.” his glistening eyes met yours and like the stars in the sky... you couldn’t look away. he was captivating.

noticing your staring, you coughed. “nothing fun... whatever you and the other gods do?”

“...it’s great and everything, but sometimes a bunch of stuff can stir up between us.” he chuckled nervously while rubbing the back of his neck.

“i mean i know enough to know that compared to humans... your family tree is... interesting.” you wouldn’t lie... you wanted in on the tea.

“prying a little now are we?”

guilty as charged. you shrugged, attempting an innocent smile. his hair shook with his head and you couldn’t help but think it was like a cloud sat on top of him.

“okay now the real reason we came here... to sing!” he instantly stood up clicking a song to play.

it was an upbeat song and he was definitely vibing with it. he moved to the beat, letting himself go. you stared in admiration as a small smile crept up. although it wasn’t until he opened his mouth that you became mesmerized.

he only seemed to glow even more when he sang. he was livelier and his voice was that of an angel. he turned to look at you and you could swear he resembled the sun. his wide and bright smile as he messed around. he pointed at you before bending his pointed finger, singling you to “come here.”

you laughed as you shook your head. there’s no way. hueningkai huffed before grabbed you by the hand to pull you up. you couldn’t deny his strength because he nearly made you fall over.

you stood there awkwardly- not knowing what to do. he handed you a microphone that you stared blankly at.

“come on y/n sing with me.” he pouted, moving the microphone in your hand up to your face. he almost made the microphone smack you in the teeth. impatient much.

that didn’t matter though because as you stared at the boy in front of you who truly loved music, you couldn’t not join him. you rolled your eyes before cutting his lyric off.

at first he looked shocked, his eyes seeming to widen and only shine more as he listened to your voice. you assumed you didn’t sound like a dying toad and went with it. after getting over his shock, he smiled nodding with the beat.

the two of you kept eye contact, leaning in as you sang together. you were able to forget all about your disease that seemed to eat you from the outside in. now it was only you and hueningkai. on the outside you were just having fun, but on the inside a new feeling bloomed inside of you.

seconds passed, then minutes, then hours of goofing around passed before you fell on the couch in defeat. you were gasping for air, feeling slightly dizzy from all the action. you felt weak again, starting to cough from the lack of air that you managed to breath in.

hueningkai rushed towards you, grabbing a water bottle. “deep breaths y/n.” you listened to him, trying to slow down your breathing before he poured some water down your throat. it only took a minute or two for you to get your breathing back to normal, sipping the water every now and then.

“i’m sorry y/n. i wish it was a simple fix.” his hand rested on your thigh as he stared at the ground.

“don’t be sorry. you’re doing more for me than anyone has ever been able to do.” you gave him a soft smile when he looked up at you. your time was approaching that you knew, but it seemed like hueningkai picked up on that fairly quickly.

“let’s get you back home. that way i can start helping you.” he smiled taking your hand once more. he squeezed your jittery hands, causing the feeling of butterflies. you hope you’re not just a pity case for him.

you were staring at the ceiling as hueningkai spoke to you. it was now five in the afternoon and you were exhausted.

“you know maybe eating instant ramen everyday doesn’t help your health.” he said a matter of factually. even so he still handed you the hot ramen.

“i didn’t really care at a certain point. besides... you and that... whatever you want to call it knocked me out.” you huffed before stuffing your face.

hueningkai smiled at you, chuckling at how cute you looked.

“what?” you pouted feeling a bit insecure as you ate.

“nothing...” he smiled, “you’re just cute.” although he mumbled it, you heard it clear as day, but you ignored it. your red cheeks would be the only thing to give you away.

“anyways what do you know about your disease and family.” he asked trying to get some more information.

“well... it’s very likely that it runs in the family, however, it’s only the women. my mom died a few years after I was born, so my grandpa raised me.” you continued to eat as he nodded, urging you to continue.

“well my grandma died at an early age as well, but it seems that with each given year the time we have alive just decreases. my grandpa loved us all, but he was also convinced there was another reason behind all of it. if he was still alive he could probably tell you everything he’s figured out.” you sigh. hueningkai was focused.

“okay... anything else?” he asked as he leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed.

“uh... actually that time i passed out in that... gathering... i had a dream of this woman. i don’t know who she is, but she just seemed familia- oh! oh my god... she actually mentioned a curse. i’m almost certain that she said you were the only one that could reverse it.” you can’t believe you forgot about that.

“okay... i don’t see why it would be me, but i’ll look into it. it seems like a generational curse, however, if another god placed this curse on your family y/n... i don’t think i can or should help you as it could cause some conflict.” he sighed.

“hopefully that’s not the case though.” he got up abruptly, causing you to look at him with questionable eyes.

“where are you going?” you asked, setting your ramen aside.

“going to do some thinking and talking.” he waved goodbye before disappearing, leaving you alone in your bed.

all you could do was wait as he figured everything out for you.

you awoke to a distressed hueningkai, he surprisingly didn’t notice you walk into the living room where he sat on the couch. his had his hands knotted in his beautiful locks.

“are you stressed?” you asked making the god look at you. he didn’t look in your eyes.

“you could say that.” he sighed. this time he was wearing a loose white button down with some black dress pants. it was completely different from yesterday, but he looked nice.

“you’re dressed up today huh? are you going to take me out on a date?” you joked, plopping yourself down beside him.

“you wish.” he tried to joke around, punching your shoulder very very softly. you could tell something had gotten him down.

“i researched some about you, but this information was from like years ago I’m guessing, but you have a twin?” you asked, still trying to make eye contact with him.

at this topic he smiled. finally.

“yes! artemis... i actually spoke to her yesterday. tried getting her help...” he trailed off.

“why don’t we go out again? someone else seems to be the debby downer now.” you hopped up to go change before hueningkai grabbed your wrist. you looked back at him curious as to why he stopped you.

“never mind.” he sighed after fidgeting with his fingers.

“okay hyuka, but know that you can tell me these things.” you looked away from his shrinking figure and walked into your room to change.

seeing him like that was something... different. you couldn’t help but wonder if it was about you, but why would he be so sad about you.

this time you were the one leading him. it was one of your favorite places to go, the park in your city. it peaked during the summer time, lit up by the sun and complimented with the nature around it.

you had also decided to dress up, trying to match hueningkai.

“okay now you can look!” you said excitedly, watching as hueningkai uncovered his eyes.

“you know i really thought you would get me ran over.” he looked at you before what was in front of him, his eyes shining like they usually do.

“oh shut up! it’s not like that would matter for someone like you.” you huffed turning to look at the park, “so what do you think?” you asked while admiring the many orange, red, yellow, and pink flowers.

“absolutely beautiful.” he commented. you felt eyes on you, so you turned your head. instantly your face flushed as your heart started pounding in your chest. he was staring at you.

“n-not me! the park!” you squealed, turning your head away out of embarrassment.

“yeah it’s pretty, but i’d rather look at you.” your heart beat in your chest. how do you respond to that? why does he make me feel this way?

you hurriedly walked away, trying to escape the flirtatious man. you heard his loud laughter from behind you.

“okay okay! come back!” he jogged up to you, but you didn’t even spare a glance. noticing this, he jogging in front of you, so you went the other direction. you didn’t want to show him how you were hiding a smile, but you were more concerned with hiding your feelings.

they burn inside of you and you don’t know what to do about it. the burning passion for this man only grew more and more each second you spent with him.

“y/n look at me.” he grabbed your wrist, sending sparks through your body. you turned around abruptly, staring into his beautiful light filled eyes.

“i’m in love you.” you said. it was supposed to be something you only admitted to yourself, but it flew out of your mouth. his eyes were wide, mouth agape. there was no going back now.

“i love you hueningkai. i know it’s foolish of me, but you’ve brought me back to life. maybe it wasn’t in the way i initially planned, but maybe i prefer this. having you beside me, enjoying each others presence... it lights a fire within me... that i didn’t know existed. you bring out the best in me and i can’t look at you without thinking of every small detail. with you i don’t feel like a girl taking her last breath.” you didn’t look away from him, not once. you watched as his face relaxed and now you watched as he smiled.

“perhaps aphrodite has blessed us. y/n i...” his face dropped... seeming to remember something, “before... before you go on about how you love me... i have something to confess.” his face showed regret and misfortune. it scared you.

his hands were trembling, but they stopped abruptly when he opening his mouth. “i was the one who put the curse on your family. it was centuries ago and honestly... i’m surprised that the women in your family have lasted this long.” he looked in your eyes, not wanting to show you any sign of weakness.

you were completely bewildered, so much that your eyes started to water. “why?” it hurt to know that he was the reason you were dying.

“you had a beautiful ancestor, but... she was ungrateful and disrespectful. she challenged others and when she came to me... i didn’t have the time for someone like her. she was healthy, but her friends were not, so when she talked down to me i cursed her with an illness.” he explained carefully and you contemplated how to react.

“i just... i don’t know what to say. if it’s your curse can’t you take it back?” it seemed simple to you. your world was crumbling right in front of you.

“...it’s too late. i... i’m sorry. i can’t stop you from dying, but maybe... maybe i can make a deal with hades... i don’t know.” he seemed to lose his cool, freaking out.

you sighed, “it’s okay hyuka... what’s done is done. don’t trouble yourself with something that won’t work. it’s not like i wasn’t gonna die anyway.” you couldn’t be distracted now. you were in pain. not just physically, but emotionally. your body ached, every part of you screaming out for help that it wouldn’t get.

“well... thank you hueningkai. you can go back to olympus or wherever you’re supposed to. don’t be trouble by me anymore.” looking at him tore you apart. you still loved him, but you can’t erase what’s happened. you were just a dying human.

“y/n i can’t leave you like this.” he walked closer to you, but you backed up. you were fighting with yourself. maybe you just needed some time.

“i just need some time.” you turned around, leaving the deflated god behind.

once again your home was empty and dark, reminding you of yourself. you held yourself up, crying would do nothing. death was right around the corner. it’ll be all over soon.

you stared at your violin case. for the longest time it was your only form of comfort, so you grabbed the violin from out of its case. this may be the last time.

you gently placed your chin on the rest while slowly gliding the bow along the strings at the waist. you rested your callused fingers against the fingerboard while moving your arm. the melody was soft at first, grieving. your fingers moved against the strings before the song became fierce. you were just trying to let your emotions out, but every sound reminded you of the music god. then a string broke and like the strings... you broke as well.

you cried your heart out. the tears coming down all at once as you collapsed onto the cold wooden floor. your emotions overwhelmed you.

you wanted to blame apollo. you wanted to love hueningkai... but they were the same person. death was not a stranger to you, but what comes after it... you were in for an awakening.

you cried, choking out pathetic sobs as you grieved for yourself and the goodbyes that you probably wouldn’t get to make to hueningkai. the man who taught you how to live.

your body was giving up on you. the lungs that would help you breath were starting to fail. the organs that kept your system going were failing. you could do nothing about it, laying on the floor next to the violin.

it was happening fast. you began coughing, puking, even blood came up. you felt like you were starting to suffocate. you were dying and it was happening fast. your vision was getting hazy.

“y/n.”

now you were hearing things as the tears fell down your face.

“I’m so sorry y/n.” the man you loved appeared in front of you, dropping on his knees as he laid you against himself.

“you tried. that’s all that matters to me.”

sometimes the only thing left to give is forgiveness. with a simple sentence, the roles can be reversed.

with misfortune, there is beauty.

with power, there is weakness.

with every curse, there are emotions.

“i love you so much y/n. don’t leave me.” he was crying, the tears hitting your face, but as your pain subsided you could only smile. he loves you.

“please! please don’t take her away from me as well!” he was crying his eyes out and you could only watch. you body wouldn’t move anymore. you could hear your heart beat slow down.

“i’ll do anything! just let me figure something out.” his voice faded as a light covered your vision. everything was peaceful now.

you could only stare at your dead body as hueningkai looked behind you. when you turned you were met with a man in black. you could already tell what this was about and you would accept it willingly.

a broken violin laid beside your pale body. hueningkai’s face devoid of color as he grieved over your dead body.

“i’ll always remember you.”

92 notes · View notes

dreamiesdotcom · 4 years ago

Text

carpe diem | n.jm

summary: You both are the only people in the world, and it is be true; maybe it is. Maybe it isn't — maybe you don't need it to be. It feels real, so it is real, and even if you are lying to yourself as you say it, nobody has to know. Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Make the most out of the present moment. Trust the angel to say to you the filthiest of lies he's held on his tongue. Fall in love with Na Jaemin.

word count: 2689

a/n: yo :') me has been inactive but this has been requested based on this and I always thought that this blurb is too vague to understand, so here I thought 'why not?' because, you know, yOu gOtTa sEiZe tHe oPpuRtunIty (to procrastinate) (really tho) (i wrote this in one sitting but only bc i procrastinated it for a day and five hours)

Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Make the most out of the present moment. Sit inside your local library as soon as it opens, don't leave your favorite cafe until it closes at noon. Read aloud poetry, write excerpts on tissues, leave it for another person to see. Fold paper stars. Hang neon moons. Run barefooted on forests or just around your room, stargaze or just look up the sky. Wear your heart on your sleeve. Have your heart broken. Be completely in love with your best friend.

To be at the brink of sleep is the saddest and happiest feeling you can feel when it's late-night; to know that you're finally going to be able to rest, to remember why it is that you struggle to do so anyway. The clock glares 3:34 a.m and it's the time where your demons ring the loudest, sharp murmurs drowned by muffled sobs. Your phone jolts you awake when it vibrates.

From: Jaem ^^

You up?

It should annoy you, really, but it doesn't. By the time you're done typing, you're already reaching out for your jacket and your purse.

To: Jaem ^^

I don't quite seem to know... am I?

It's a numb feeling that you get when you meet him outside. Jaemin looks wonderful even in his hoodie, his hair a mess he didn't bother fixing. He's beautiful, and it's tragic because you just want him to leave. That's all you can think of when he smiles and cups your cheeks, "I can't sleep. Stay up with me?"

When he stares at you like that, he sees the answers he wants but he remains trying to look unassuming — an image of pure, honest, and genuine innocence; a lie he often makes. You close your eyes to hide, soaking up the lovely feeling of being able to breathe; Are you underwater? Are you jumping along with blue skies? Are you in Neverland? You aren't really sure— you couldn't care less that you're uncertain which and where to compare this feeling to. His gaze softens, "You are so, so pretty. Can I kiss you?"

He traces his thumbs against your cheeks, and it urges you to look and see but you're so afraid of what you'd find behind his mask. It doesn't matter anyway, not when right now, it's only Jaemin and you existing. All you could think of is that if you try hard enough, if you imagine real hard enough, it will be true. That you could live in that thought — you both are the only people in the world, and it will be true.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't — maybe you don't need it to be. It feels real, so it is real, and even if you are lying to yourself as you say it, nobody has to know. Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Make the most out of the present moment. Trust the angel to say to you the filthiest of lies he's held on his tongue.

"Of course," you would have almost begged had he not asked. "Of course you can."

When you can’t let yourself fall but you do anyway, when you can't admit to wanting someone fully, when you're three steps away from safety so you build walls to guard you — when you aren't brave enough to dream, when you pretend not to yearn, when you end up wanting less, what you do is lie. You lie. You lie although wanting less hurts, and wanting less is unstable, and wanting less just makes you want to want more.

You lie.

"I have never been," he gasps and then smiles as he yet again presses a warming kiss against your lips, "so desperately in love."

You lie when you don't dare want — at least, that's what Jaemin does. It's okay, though; it is, because you will always allow him. Because you will always let him. Because you can never deny him. Because you will always want what he wants, too. You ignore the bile coating your mouth and head home with cold fingers.

###

Is love even ever sane? When you think about it, nothing really is. Rewrite that: is love even ever safe?

Jaemin has gravity, and all it does is keep you from running. You try to walk away to save yourself but you can't; you try to show him how cold your heart can get but the ice melts when his fingers run down your spine. His eyes glint in the dark. Unfold for me, it seemed to say, the taste is bitter but chase it. Chase it anyway. And you do. You chase it.

Perhaps it's not love. Perhaps it's just you. Whatever the case, all of it boils down to one conclusion: you're in danger.

"Jaemin?" You call, the both of you lost somewhere in the middle of highs and lows of sharing a deep, passionate, and confusing kiss. You smile sweetly and cup his cheeks when he responds with a smile just as saccharine, and you whisper, "I hope you think of me."

He makes a confused but endeared sound, and you laugh a little.

"I hope you think of me all the time and it fucks you up."

Somehow that makes him want to kiss you more, and who are you to deny him and how are you going to do that when he's on it now and it's all you ever wanted? Chase it. Chase it. Chase his lips when it leaves yours because you are his hostage but he is trapped. Chase his lips because this might be the last time and all you want is to be his ghost, to be the name he calls for even when he's with someone else, to be the only one he feels even when others touch him. Chase his lips until he puts pressure on your waist so that he could go back to the shore, breathe a fresh set of air.

Jaemin runs a hand through his hair, catching his lips between his teeth as he prepares himself for sincerity; it seemed like a lie, but it doesn't go away long enough that you know it's true when he nods — "You fuck me up all the time."

###

"It's two a.m and I'm on my fourth coffee because, you know, Carpe Diem!"

You grimace, "Stop using Carpe Diem to excuse your stupidity."

Jaemin doesn't laugh, but he flashes that half-smile he knows drives you wild. The cafe is quiet as it holds no one but the two of you, the barista and the student at the counter — the sound of coffee brewing fills the void of your silence, but it's quickly muffled out by Jaemin's sudden chuckle.

"Might mess around and kiss you." He rests his chin on both his palms, caught in a reverie and actually thinking about it. He sighs dreamily, "The ultimate Carpe Diem."

"Dumbass." He laughs more at your bemused tone, but you don't. It's not funny. "What, you think I'm easy? What am I to you, 'min?"

It's an unnecessary outburst. You could let him have you just like always and it will be done, it will be over, you can forget it. You could let him kiss you just like how you want it and you could move on with the moment but for heaven's sake, you don't want to. It is an unnecessary outburst, but God, this unnecessary is so needed at the moment.

"Tell me." Your breath hitches in your throat as you whisper, "I want to hear what I know directly from your lips. Tell me."

Tell me you don't love me. Tell me that you're just lonely. Tell me that I am nothing but an anchor to hold onto when it's midnight and you're way too cold to be warm. Tell me all the cruel things you refuse to say because maybe what I need so badly is to see you be the liar I know you are.

"There are things that we don't need to say out loud."

A shiver runs up your spine at his smile, and you look away. Genuine is not what you need, but at the same time what you need is the truth — for him to be cruel — so that you could run, so that you could have a reason to run, so that you could convince yourself that you have a reason to run. You have been too willing to bend to his needs, to lose sleep, to lose yourself; what you need is to have a reason to try not to love him, which is to say that you do.

"And sometimes, those things are all that we need to hear so we stop being confused." You return his fond gaze, fingers moving to caress his cheeks, "I'm done trying to guess if you want me because you love me or you're just with me because I'm convenient."

Sometimes you wonder why it is that he has to lie; why does he need to tell you things he doesn't feel? But oh, on some days, you feel like he's not lying anymore. Those days hurt the most. Everything hurts with Jaemin. Everything is painful and beautiful with him.

You shut your eyes, fists clenched — "I'm going home."

At the end of it all, you know that one of you is bound to be either the bomb, or the casualty.

###

"Open the door or you'll have to buy a new one tomorrow," is the threat that makes you let your best friend in even with a heavy heart. To be fair, the door is a beautiful one. You kind of think it's not worth getting the hardest question at the moment, though, when Donghyuck finishes his glass of water and suddenly asks; "Love letters can only keep your heart beating so long, what is so difficult to understand with that?"

He has a way of being blunt, and mostly it's not the best attribute he holds. Donghyuck has been careful with you in all aspects except the thing about Jaemin; he hates him with all he is, and that is odd because your best friend used to love the other. They had dance class together and were even in a team together until you two started hanging out and Donghyuck left; to keep you away, he said. He's no good for you, he said. It was everything but fair but you understand. Dance is one of Donghyuck's many dreams and if he quits it for this reason, you think it's pretty valid. Unnecessarily overdramatic, but still valid.

"I said, what is so difficult to unders—"

"None!" you hiss. "Heaven, Hyuck, none at all! Do you think I'm dumb? Of course, I know that!"

"Then why do you keep holding on?"

Why.. Would it disappoint you less if I tell you that at this point, I don't even know anymore? Because I do know, but the reason is probably better unsaid.

"It's all I have," you whisper, feeling smaller and smaller as time passes. You bite your lips to stop your sobs, "It's all he could give."

"All he wants is to break your heart."

"Then he got what he want," You wipe away your tears. Donghyuck laughs coldly; it's the last thing you need and it runs you over like a car on full-speed, washing over you like cold water. The sad song thrums in your veins. "He gets what he wants every second of the day."

He doesn't even need to ask, but I'll give him the entire world. If I can not give him the entire world, I would give up my whole being. Why would you think that I wouldn't let him break my heart every breath I take?

"He tells you he loves you because he can't accept those words as things he wants to say to Jeno — he does to you everything because he can't admit to himself that it's all he wants to have with Jeno." His brows furrow, "He's in love with Jeno and he can't accept that. He's with you because everything would be easier if he was in love with you instead, but he's not, and he's lyin— why can't you see that?"

But you can see it, it's about as clear as day. It shines above you like the sun and it touches you like ice against your skin, it's a book laid down without all the other riddles. You don't know why you stay — maybe it's his laughs, or his kisses, or his company, or your feelings. Maybe it's everything all at once.

"People see what they want to see," your voice breaks alongside your heart. "Perhaps, I am blind with him, Lee Donghyuck."

###

There's a place where reality is a bit altered and it's everywhere with him.

Maybe it was his bright eyes. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it's the way he was your home someway; with him it's lightweight, with him it's all happy and too perfect for the both of you. Maybe it's his lies and the way they tangle almost seamlessly, perfect enough that it seems real.

There was a time back then, a faraway memory. The first time you two slept side-by-side, he laid beside the window, and the moon casted pristine shadows on his face. His hair was blonde then, and you both loved and hated the way it fanned like a halo as he laid against the silk-covered pillow. He was sleepy, and you do not know if the moment was meant for you, but it was also the first time he kissed you, and he asked you if you wanted him to love you more.

Yes, you said, testing the waters. Yes, you said, because it is what you want.

He laughed then and he opened his eyes, holding galaxies and untold stories; feelings that are yet to be put into words. "But I do know that I love you too much now, and it would ruin me to love you any more. It would break my heart if it beat for you faster. Do you want that?"

At that point you knew that it wasn't you he's seeing in his head, but yes, you still said, trying to know more. Yes, you still said, because maybe if you pretended hard enough, it will be true. It will be for you.

Jaemin's skin was akin gold, his lips reminding you suspiciously of cherries. "Good," he whispered with his voice something that should be God forbidden, addicting and sticking to you like remnants of honey, "I want that too."

That was place number one; that specific moment in his bedroom that changed your world for the best or the worst. This is place number two, standing somewhere unfamiliar, with him the dullest star you've ever seen. Only three months have passed when you ghosted him and you think he could qualify as a stranger, but he's all too familiar even when he's so... so different. Jaemin's eyes are tired, his skin pale. His smile remains radiant and smug, as blue as his dyed hair, worn in that kind of lazy way he always does.

He laughs, "Missed me?"

You shake your head, "No."

And with that came a step, and with that step you let the truth burn your throat in a manner so similarly strong and unpleasant as your first drink. You step on your feelings, the real ones, and you keep your gaze indifferent. The words echoed in your head as if to taunt you to say them, and you thank the moon that before you could, he crashes his lips with yours.

Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Make the most out of the present time. Run around in circles, pick your poison, pin wildflowers to your hair. Open a book and hide behind it. Adore a hopeless flame — know that you are running out of forever, be a ticking time bomb. Let this be good, maybe not great nor sweet, but let it be good and temporary. Know that someday you'll need something more than the blurred lines between lies and reality, feelings, or just the need for company. Fall in love with Na Jaemin.

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mcgrillzdumpinc · 4 years ago

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Meeting with Masks

Summary: Nie Huaisang is beyond excited when he is invited to a Jin party including Carnival masks. He doesn't expect to catch feelings at the party, but it's not so bad. Written for day 7 of SangCheng Month - First Meeting!

ao3 link

Pairing: Sangcheng, mentions of NieYao Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of queerphobia Word count: 1811

“The Jin invited us to a party.”

Nie Huaisang looks up from his phone just as Nie Mingjue tosses a letter on the dining table. The envelope is crisp and cream, the flap decorated by gold filigree. Nie Huaisang pulls out the invitation, which matches the envelope perfectly, and reads. The party is actually a ball being hosted at the main Jin mansion, intended to celebrate Jin Zixuan’s twenty-first birthday. Dress code is formal, drinks will be served, blah blah blah. What really interests Nie Huaisang is the text at the bottom of the invitation, several font sizes larger than the main text and bolded to emphasize its importance—

Bring a Carnival Mask!

Nie Huaisang lets out a low whistle that quickly turns into giddy laughter. “Da-ge! Update the scoreboard! The Jin are less crappy than the Yao now!”

“Because of the masks?” Nie Mingjue guesses very correctly because he is the best big brother ever.

“Yes! Oh my god I’m going to have so much fun making your mask, da-ge! Do you want to go intimidating? Sexy? Mysterious?”

“All white,” Nie Mingjue replies as he takes a black dry-erase marker to the scoreboard on the refrigerator. “This party is stupid, anyway.”

“Booooo!” Nie Huaisang declares as he stands up, arms thrown into the air in protest. “You’re boring! The most boring da-ge!”

“I still get ass,” Nie Mingjue says with a smirk.

“Gross!!!!!”

~~~

Thankfully, the Jin (probably only Guangyao) had the foresight to send the invitation a few weeks in advance, so there was plenty of time for Nie Huaisang to research Carnival masks and start making one of his own. To Nie Mingjue’s great pleasure, there was even a mask that fit his boring requirements. So on the day of the ball, the Nie brothers arrive in hand-made and impeccable masks.

“Do you think anybody will recognize us?” Nie Mingjue asks as he readjusts his cape. Yes, cape. Nie Huaisang made him a bauta mask and Nie Mingjue, in his full jock-nerd glory, decided to wear the full historical garb, tricorn hat and cape and all.

Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes. In contrast to his nerd brother, Nie Huaisang has opted to dress a little slutty in tight-fitted dress pants, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, and black corset vest. His neck, fingers, and wrists are decked out in green and gold jewelry, all polished to shine in the light. He’s decorated his white mask in a similarly lavish fashion—gold lips, black eyes, gold and black filigree at the sides and top, and below the eyes is a series of gold hexagons that lead into teardrops. “I hope not,” he responds to his brother. “It’ll be way more fun surprising people.”

Together they walk up the many, many steps into the main Jin mansion. After temporarily removing their masks to prove their identities, they slip inside. The foyer is already alight with revelers, most of them likely entertainment hired to hype up the guests. It’s only 7 p.m., after all, and only a select few people would be this drunk so early into the evening. Unless the food or drink is spiked, in which case Nie Huaisang needs to find out for himself before he lets Nie Mingjue have a taste.

“Be careful with the food,” Nie Huaisang advises as he takes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Perceptive as always, Nie Mingjue replies, “A-Yao knows the diet my doctor recommended. He wouldn’t poison me.”

Maybe in the past he would have, but Nie Huaisang is pretty sure Jin Guangyao has a more vested interested in his Nie Mingjue’s health now that they’re dating. Hopefully. It’s hard to tell when it comes to the Jin.

“Still, be careful. Yao-ge could’ve missed something.”

Nie Mingjue stares at him. Even beneath the heavy mask, Nie Huaisang knows his brother is giving him a disbelieving look.

“You never know!” he defends as the duo reach their destination.

The ballroom is massive, large enough to house the entire population of a small town during a natural disaster. True to pompous Jin nature, Jin Zixuan is seated at the far end of the ballroom on a stage. Nie Huaisang knows it’s him because of the way he sits—the body posture of somebody who absolutely does not want to be there. Twenty-one years and the poor guy is still not used to the way his family does things.

Nie Huaisang can sympathize. He’s pretty different from the rest of his own family, too.

“I’m going to go find A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue speaks up over the orchestra music.

“Okay. Make sure he taste-tests your food!” Nie Huaisang exclaims as he raises his mask to take a sip of champagne.

“Shove off!” Nie Mingjue scolds good-naturedly.

Nie Huaisang waves off his brother before heading into the crowd. Looking around, there’s nobody he immediately recognizes. There’s one guy in bright red wearing a plague doctor’s mask that keeps catching Nie Huaisang’s eye, but he quickly decides that tonight is not the night to bother with the crazies. It’s generally good advice to follow when in Jin territory.

In time, Nie Huaisang finds himself a wallflower. He’s not the most easily sociable person. Friendly, sure. But he’s never been good at approaching strangers. He would have gone up to Jin Zixuan, but Nie Huaisang has no idea if the guy would lose it the second he saw a friendly face. Which would be an entire headache if that did happen. So, wall.

It’s been at least thirty minutes since he finished his champagne and he’s not feeling even slightly drugged, though. So that’s good news for his brother.

Just as he’s considering finding the buffet, a stranger joins Nie Huaisang at the wall. The stranger is tall, at least 8 centimeters taller than Nie Huaisang, and cuts an intimidating figure with broad shoulders and large hands. Their loose, black hair is long, falling to about their shoulder blades, contrasting starkly to the orchid purple button-up shirt they wear. The waistcoat they wear is a darker purple with black buttons. Slung over their right arm is a formal jacket that matches the waistcoat. Interestingly, their choice in bottoms is a pair of orchid purple pants, with the left side covered by an ankle-length black skirt. Nie Huaisang finds himself smiling at that detail—as a person who’s still questioning, he can appreciate a challenge to the gender binary.

He looks up to meet the stranger’s eyes. The stranger is looking back at him with a lovely pair of brown eyes. It’s a shame that the rest of this handsome stranger’s face is hidden by what Nie Huaisang would call the creepiest of the traditional Carnival masks—a moretta. Pitch black and perfectly round, it’s like a void has replaced the rest of the stranger’s face. In the bright lights of the ballroom, Nie Huaisang cannot see any ties keeping the mask up, so the stranger has opted for the traditional way of wearing the mask—a button between their lips. Even if they can talk, they have rendered themself effectively mute.

Still, though. Nie Huaisang likes a challenge. He introduces himself with a bow.

The stranger bows silently in return.

Nie Huaisang laughs to himself. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks.

The stranger rolls their eyes.

“Yeah, Jin parties are like that for me, too. They care way too much.”

The stranger raises their champagne glass, as if to say Cheers to that.

Nie Huaisang finds himself smiling. “You know, I really wasn’t expecting a moretta mask, of all things. It’s unique.”

The stranger doesn’t respond.

“Not a bad thing,” Nie Huaisang clarifies. “But I’m curious. Join me for a trip to the buffet?”

The stranger nods. Nie Huaisang offers his arm and, after slipping on their jacket, they take it. Together, they leave the crowded ballroom for the crowded hallways and manage to get themselves lost a few times before finally finding the buffet.

“Why the hell would they put it so far away from the ballroom?” Nie Huaisang grumbles as he moves to wait in line. He hears the stranger laugh. “I hope you remember the way back. I’m terrible with directions.”

The stranger reaches up to remove their mask. Underneath the void is a strikingly handsome visage, with sharp cheekbones and shapely lips. Nie Huaisang very much wants to ravish them immediately. “Don’t worry, I do,” they say with a rumbling, deep voice.

“Fuck you’re sexy,” Nie Huaisang utters with absolutely zero forethought. Realizing his mistake, he slaps a hand over his mask’s mouth. “I’m so sorry! That just came out!”

The stranger looks equally flustered, their eyes avoiding Nie Huaisang’s as they mumble, “It’s okay. You don’t seem like a creep.”

“I promise I’m not,” Nie Huaisang says as he removes his mask. “Which I know sounds exactly like what a creep would say, but scout’s honor! Not a creep!”

The stranger stares at him for a long second before saying, “You’re not so bad-looking yourself.”

Nie Huaisang manages to hide his fluster by announcing, “I better. It took twenty tries to get this eyeliner right.”

The stranger snorts. “Jiang Cheng, by the way,” they introduce themselves.

“Oh, shit. You’re pretty important, huh?” The Jiang hold a near-monopoly in all water-based trade in and out of their city. Nie Huaisang’s parents have pretty regular contact with Jiang Fengmian and his wife Yu Ziyuan in the interest of not losing some important trade negotiations. But, last he heard, Jiang Cheng was the Jiang’s son. “Can I get your pronouns?”

“Any,” Jiang Cheng answers.

Ah. “So the moretta mask is pretty symbolic, huh?”

“I’m out as genderfluid, but I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Jiang Cheng tells him with a notably flat affect.

Nie Huaisang frowns. “That sucks. I’m still questioning, but my family is pretty supportive.”

“My siblings are, too. Supportive, that is.” The duo reach the banquet table. Nie Huaisang receives Jiang Cheng’s mask as the other starts preparing two dishes of food. “My parents are trying, but you know how some people take queerness these days. Anyway, should I not refer to you with he/him?”

“I’m still comfortable with those pronouns,” Nie Huaisang easily responds. “Oh, get me some sausage.” Jiang Cheng obliges. “Honestly, I might just be on the gender-nonconforming side, but I’m not sure yet.”

Jiang Cheng smiles. It brings an ethereal softness to their features that Nie Huaisang would love to kiss. But he keeps his hands to himself as the two of them reach the end of the buffet table and hurry to find a spot to eat. “It takes time,” Jiang Cheng says as they trade a plate of food for their mask. “Hey, after this, want to dance?”

Nie Huaisang offers them a smile in return. “Absolutely.”

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #sangcheng #sangchengmonth2020 #sangchengber #sometimes i write

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 1 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N: Oh hi. Welcome to the Galactica sequel that I’ve been planning FOREVER. Like...literally since the time these two started interacting on Twitter, during season 10. Thanks to @artificialpuddle for the beta help, and @aqcitrus for brainstorming with me. <3

And of course, a HUGE thanks to @theartificialdane, for humoring me the whole way through and letting me explore this ship in the Galactica verse. It is mostly fluffy, fluffy shit, which is a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I love them so much and I just want them to be happy.

I think it can easily be read as a stand-alone story. The only thing you need to know from Galactica is that at this point in the story, Courtney is a wildly successful queer pop star and star of a fictional Disney franchise called ‘Glimmer,’ which costars Honey Mahogany as her love interest.

Challenge Notes:

Story is told mostly from Vixen’s POV

Her BFFs: Asia, Monet, Monique, Mayhem (who show up in person in Chapter 2)

The title is a song by Cree Summer. I’ve also made a playlist for this story, which can be found here.

#Vixney4Eva

TW: vague reference to past transphobia, sexual apprehension/nervousness that should in NO WAY be construed as dubcon

***

It was Honey who introduced them. Or, rather, Honey who handed Courtney the book that started everything, on the set of Glimmer 3.

BEWARE WHITE TEARS: Performativity and Racial Justice, by Toni “Vixen” Taylor enthralled Courtney so much that she barely slept for 3 nights, devouring it twice. And then she read the whole thing again, slowly, highlighting the parts that blew her mind the most.

On set, when she just couldn’t stop raving about it, Honey laughed at her.

“So...you liked it?”

“Omigod, yes!” Courtney exclaimed. “I mean, obviously I feel very called out. But in a good way? Like...this is making me rethink everything.”

“That’s good! I thought maybe you’d be offended,” Honey said, adjusting her crown.

“Offended? How long have we known each other?” Courtney giggled, bumping Honey with her hip. It was true: they’d been co-starring in the Glimmer franchise for 8 years at that point.

“Still.”

“But god, Honey, it was just...I mean, I don’t even have any words for how amazing it was. She’s so fucking smart and passionate, and so funny, and everything she says is like…” Courtney shook her head, starry-eyed.

“You should tell her,” Honey said with a saucy wink. “Send her a tweet or something.”

“She’s not gonna care what I think,” Courtney said. “I mean, hello? Chapter 4?”

“Okay, but she’s a professor. She’ll be thrilled that someone learned something. Besides, even if she doesn’t respond, maybe you’ll encourage your fans to read it.”

“That’s true…”

“And maybe get more people to listen to her podcast-”

“She has a podcast?!!” Courtney shrieked excitedly, then whispered, “Sorry,” when she saw the boom operator cringe.

Maybe Honey was right...but what should she say?

***

Vixen felt absolutely silly. There was really no reason for attention from a celebrity to make her so giddy. True, there’d been a phase when she hung on Courtney Act’s every word--but that was years ago. Early in her transition, when she felt like nothing she did was right. When she was desperate for any voice telling her that who she was was okay.

It was different now. She was 30 year old, for fuck’s sake. She didn’t need validation from anyone anymore, especially not a pop-star-come-Disney-princess. At least, that’s what she would have told anyone who asked.

But to herself, she couldn’t deny the thrill she got when she saw that first notification on her phone. The mild anxiety all day as she taught two lectures and graded a handful of thesis proposals--a nagging thought in the back of her mind wondering how she should reply. It wasn’t until late into the evening, after 2 glasses of wine, that she allowed herself to read it again, slowly typing out a reply.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 15h Just read @professorvixtaylor’s “Beware White Tears” and my mind is BLOWN. Everyone needs to read this game-changing book. E V E R Y O N E!!!! It’s so good, so informative, so powerful. AND I just found out that she has! A! Podcast!! #obsessed <3 <3 <3 <3

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Glad you found it interesting! Thanks for the plug.

That was fine, right? Very chill. She went to sleep feeling pretty satisfied with herself. It wasn’t until the following morning when she saw Courtney’s response.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 6h Replying to @professorvixtaylor That is the understatement of the year!!! I LOVED it! You are BRILLIANT. I just listened to the first episode of your podcast and holy shit...it’s phenomenal.

Vixen put down her phone, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. It was shallow and cheap--being this enchanted by obviously exaggerated praise. But still...not a bad way to start the day.

***

Vixen was used to fighting. All of her life, it seemed, she’d had to prove herself. Scrape and claw for her voice to be heard. Shout into the void over and over, praying that someone would eventually listen. Demand attention and bang down doors and yell until she was hoarse.

Having someone at Courtney’s level of fame pay attention to her--emphatically describe her as brilliant, incisive, powerful, mind-blowing--Vixen’s impulse, in the beginning, was to lie. To say she didn’t need that kind of validation from anyone, especially a rich, famous, beautiful white girl. The embodiment of privilege. Someone whose coming out was celebrated in the media like a massive human rights achievement. Because how could someone like that ever really get it?

But on the other hand…she had to hand it to Courtney. She had excellent taste in podcasts.

And there was something soothing about a person who didn’t expect her to prove anything. Someone who respected her from the jump, who engaged with her book and her podcasts from a place of dignity, assuming that she knew what she was talking about. She didn’t demand back-up or further explanations when she came across material that was confusing. She did the work herself, looking up the articles and studies Vixen cited, posting them with a quote when something in particular caught her attention.

So reluctantly, over the next month or two, Vixen found herself warming to the idea of a real dialogue. It was January 1st, sitting on her grandmother’s plastic-covered sofa, when Vixen finally bit the bullet and slipped into Courtney’s DMs, so to speak.

Courtney had been tweeting up a storm over the holidays. Gobbling up her podcasts rapidly and hungrily, heaping her and her guests with praise and incidentally, making her subscriber numbers climb. She opened a direct message window, typing out a message that she hoped would make Courtney laugh.

@professorvixtaylor: Alright, already. This is getting embarrassing...

The response came within minutes.

@courtneyact: LOL! Listen, nobody ever accused me of a lack of enthusiasm.

@professorvixtaylor: I bet not ;)

It took one afternoon of DMs before Courtney gave Vixen her phone number. “Twitter’s great, but it’s probably easier to just text, right?”

Well.

Vixen had to admit, she had a point.

***

“So listen,” Latrice said, heaving a deep sigh. “I hate to be the one to tell you this. Like, I really, really hate it.”

“Oh shit,” Courtney said, wrapping herself in a blanket and preparing herself for whatever horrible news her manager was about to deliver. “Go ahead…”

“This isn’t coming from me, okay? It’s coming from Disney.”

“Just tell me, Latrice. What? Is the tour cancelled? Do they hate the new video? Do we need to do reshoots? What?”

“No, all that’s fine. They just...they’re a little uncomfortable about your interactions with this Vixen person.”

“Why?” Courtney sat up, ready to get extremely annoyed, extremely fast.

“Well, it’s just...she’s apparently got some very radical ideas, and-”

“So? Maybe they’re amazing ideas? Have you read the book?” Courtney countered.

Latrice sighed.

“Courtney, listen. It’s just...not what they want while they’re trying to promote this last movie.”

“It’s a movie that ends with a gay interracial marriage!” Courtney exclaimed. “So why the fuck do they have a problem with me complimenting a Black political science professor on Twitter?! This is beyond idiotic, Latrice, you have to admit that! And by the way, I’m not gonna stop. She’s amazing and her book is important and more people should know about her, and if they want to fire me, then fine!” Courtney’s heart was racing as she tried to catch her breath.

There was a pause before Latrice spoke again.

“I assumed this would be your response.”

“Yeah, so. Now what?!”

“Now, I tell them that you feel very strongly about this, and that you’re not breaching any contract, and if they try to silence you on this issue, you’re prepared for a very public, very embarrassing fight,” Latrice said.

“Okay…” Courtney waited for the catch.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll drop it.”

“Just like that?” Courtney asked, confused. She’d gotten herself well and riled up, prepared for a real battle.

“Yeah, baby,” Latrice said. “Just like that. Chalk it up to white privilege.”

Courtney couldn’t help but laugh at that, head falling back on the sofa cushions.

“Good one, ma’am.”

After they hung up, Courtney opened Instagram, delighted that Vixen had updated her story. It was just a casual picture, her and two other professors getting ready to speak at a round table discussion. Courtney smiled, replying to the picture with heart eyes and the question, ‘Is that top from my collection?’

She responded a little while later, while Courtney was on the elliptical, saying, ‘I was hoping you’d notice. ;)’

Courtney giggled to herself, wondering when she’d get to meet this amazing, glowingly beautiful woman. All she wanted was to finally talk, face to face. Maybe in the spring, when her tour hit Chicago? Which, as far as Courtney was concerned, couldn’t happen soon enough.

***

It may very well have been a love letter, Vixen thought, finding her cheeks blazing hot at the thought. She’d woken up to a video posted on Courtney’s Twitter feed. “How To Be a Race Ally.”

Vixen watched the whole video with a healthy amount of skepticism. It was great, actually. Humble and informative. Cleverly incorporating some of the points from her podcast (with proper credit given) and even some things she’d said over text recently (also with credit, and a wink straight into the camera that made Vixen feel things she wasn’t prepared for at 7:30 in the morning).

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact Okay fine, you can come to the cookout.

As usual, Courtney's response was lightning fast, an emoji wearing a party hat and about 10 exclamation points. Vixen couldn’t resist teasing her a little bit more.

Dr. Vixen Taylor @professorvixtaylor ∙ 1m Replying to @courtneyact I don’t know how vegan-friendly it’ll be, though.

Courtney Act @courtneyact ∙ 1m Replying to @professorvixtaylor You really think I’m there for the food? ;P

Vixen rose from her bed, an almost giddy feeling filling her chest. She really needed to calm the fuck down. What was with this silly schoolgirl behavior? And on a public platform? Every interaction ran the risk of absolutely ruining the street cred she’d spent years building up. (Monet was already making it her personal mission to screenshot every exchange and then tease her mercilessly, and Asia had begun to join in.)

Besides, what were the odds that it would ever be anything but a short-lived flirtation? Courtney was bound to become captivated by something else soon. An animal rights group, perhaps. Or funding for the arts in public schools. There were a billion issues competing for her attention. How long would Vixen’s moment in the sun possibly last?

And yet, when Courtney tweeted that she was on her way to New York, Vixen found herself taking a shot of liquid courage and then sending a text.

VIXEN: Hey...how long are you gonna be in New York?

COURTNEY: A couple of weeks, why?

VIXEN: Well, I have a conference at Columbia on February 23, and then I’m gonna stay for a few days. Maybe we could meet up?

COURTNEY: YES

COURTNEY: I mean, sure. Sounds lovely. Tell me what day you’re free. <3

***

It was strange, seeing Courtney in person after all this time. As much as Vixen enjoyed chatting with her, and as validating as it was to get so much attention, she had reminded herself over and over again that this was all just friendly banter. A bit of lighthearted flirting, maybe, but the possibility of a genuine romantic connection was absolutely out of the question.

But then.

When Courtney first emerged from the elevators, smile bright, it was like time ceased to be linear. Nothing...not pictures, not video, not even that concert she’d attended all those years ago, prepared her for how heart-stoppingly beautiful she was in person.

Vixen stood, in slow motion, knees shaking a little, suddenly hugely aware of her height. Was Courtney always this little? Why had Vixen worn heels?

It must have taken Courtney less than 10 seconds to cross the lobby to where Vixen stood, but for some reason, it felt like 10 years. Excruciatingly slow, and yet somehow, Vixen was still caught off guard as she bounded up and grasped both of her hands.

“Thank you so much for coming!” Courtney exclaimed, that dazzling smile still on her face. “It’s amazing to finally be in the same room!”

“Yeah, it’s…” Vixen offered a smile of her own, swallowing hard. Her hands were warm and soft, and as Vixen gazed down at her, she could feel her heart racing faster than ever. “How was your day?”

“Crazy…” Courtney linked an arm through Vixen’s, leading her towards the hotel bar.

It took a concerningly short time for all the weirdness to dissipate, for Vixen to forget that she was across the table from a celebrity, a person she’d been following for years, a person that she’d idolized at one point in her life.

She was just a girl. Granted, she was a beautiful girl, but one who seemed incredibly excited, even honored, to be talking to Vixen—about her book, her podcast, her life. Where she came from and what she cared about and who she looked up to. A girl who wanted to get to know her.

After awhile, when Vixen was finally relaxed enough to really open up, she told Courtney about hearing ‘Kaleidoscope’ for the first time. How, at that point in her transition, it made all the difference in the world to see Courtney so open about the fluidity of gender and sexuality. To hear those magical words. ‘This is who we are.’

Courtney nodded along, listening to her, tears filling her eyes. She covered Vixen’s hand with her own, and said, “I needed it too.”

As the hours ticked by, they talked about everything. Passion, art, travel, identity. She wanted to know when Vixen began to question her own gender, how she knew that she wanted to transition. She was delighted by the story of her brief foray into drag during the early college years, the source of her now permanent nickname. In spite of all the questions (or maybe because of them), for once, Vixen felt like she wasn’t on the defensive. She found herself being more sincere and honest about all of it than she’d been in a long time.

“I’m not usually this open,” she admitted at one point.

Courtney laughed, eyes glittering, and said, “I’m usually too open.”

“I think you’re just right,” Vixen replied, giving her a generous smile.

They talked about their childhoods. How much she loved pretend and fantasy as a kid.

“I went through a phase—that’s generous, it was like 3 years—where I really wanted to be a dragon. I had this dumb...dragon hoodie, that I wore all the time. And when I finally grew out of it, I cried.”

“Aww,” Courtney said, reaching for her hand. “I bet you were adorable.”

“I think I just really, really didn’t want to be me.”

Courtney took in a slow, deep breath, and then let it out even slower.

“I’m not gonna pretend that I really get it. Everything you’re talking about. I don’t know if I ever could. But...I get that part.”

Vixen raised an eyebrow.

“You? How do you get it?” Vixen let out a chuckle. “I’m not trying to judge you, but I just...look at you. You’re this perfect, sparkly princess. Everything the world wants a girl to be.”

“Yeah...I see what you’re saying. But...sometimes it feels like that’s all the world wants. Is the sparkly princess part. And I’m more than that. Or, I hope I am. But…” Courtney trailed off, wrinkling her nose. “Do I sound really dumb?”

“You don’t sound dumb. You sound like a very intelligent, thoughtful...sparkly princess.”

Courtney threw back her head and laughed.

“I can’t believe you laughed at that,” Vixen said with a shake of her head. “It was such a cheap shot.”

“Well, I’m an easy laugh,” Courtney said, shrugging unapologetically.

“Yeah I’ve heard that about you,” Vixen couldn’t help saying, and Courtney’s giggles continued.

They stared at each other for a few moments, eyes burning in the dim light, with matching, goofy grins decorating their faces, until Vixen broke, shaking her head.

“This is so surreal…”

“How so?” Courtney asked, voice lilting in a way that felt almost like a tease, resting a chin on her hand.

Vixen hesitated. It felt so cliché to say that it was because Courtney was famous, or because she once cried at her concert when she was 23.

“I mean...you’re not even really my type,” she finally answered with a small shrug.

“Oh yeah? What’s your type?”

“Ummm...I normally go for curvy Latinas,” Vixen said, lashes fluttering.

Courtney’s eyes widened, smile deepening, as she exclaimed, “Oh my god, me too!”

They both started laughing again, clinking glasses for good measure.

“So, um...do you have to go back to Chicago tomorrow?”

“Actually, no. I decided to stay a few more days,” Vixen replied. “See some shows, meet up with some friends. There’s this museum in Brooklyn that I’ve been dying to check out for years.”

“What museum?” Courtney asked.

“It’s, uh, called the Museum of Contemporary African Diasporan Arts,” Vixen said. “Kind of a mouthful but-”

“Sounds great. I wish I could see it.”

“You wanna come? I’m going tomorrow after lunch.”

“Ugh, I wish!” Courtney said, stretching her neck. “But the press tour schedule is insane. I’m doing two more interviews tomorrow, and then I fly to LA to kick off the tour.”

“Tough breaks.” Vixen tried, unsuccessfully, not to sound sarcastic.

“Listen, I’m not complaining. I’m very lucky.” Courtney smiled, tilting her head. “But it would’ve been cool to see that museum.”

“Next time,” Vixen promised.

“I’m holding you to that,” Courtney said, gaze fixed on Vixen’s face as she downed the rest of her drink.

Vixen gave a small nod, finding her eyes hypnotic. Surreal indeed.

They ordered yet another round as hotel patrons trickled out, crowd thinning, closing time approaching. By the time they stood up to leave, they’d knocked back quite a few--more than Vixen realized at the time. She grabbed Courtney’s arm to steady her as the blonde swayed in her heels.

“You alright?”

“Mmhmm…” Courtney gazed up at her, lashes fluttering.

“Do you want me to help you upstairs?”

“Okay…”

In the elevator, Courtney wrapped her arms around Vixen’s waist, leaning a head on her shoulder. Vixen’s heart hammered in her chest, one hand gripping the railing for support.

At the door, Courtney looked up at her, eyes bright, breathing out, “You know, we don’t have to be up until 10 tomorrow…”

“What are you…‘we?’”

It took Vixen a moment to catch on to her train of thought, a wave of nerves washing over her.

“Listen. Um. I think you’re great,” she began, wincing as she saw Courtney’s blissful expression crumble. “But...I just, I never hook up with girls who’ve been drinking. It’s just…”

Vixen didn’t want to explain the whole story. The girl in the lesbian bar, years ago, who danced with her all night, flirting and rubbing against her, inviting her back to her apartment. Only, when they began to undress, and it became clear that Vixen’s body was a little different, the girl flipped a switch. Went from a delightful buzz to drunken rage. Accused her of taking advantage, called her...Vixen didn’t even want to think about that. Or about how she’d left her apartment as fast as possible, terrified and choking back tears. How at home, she’d collapsed into Asia’s arms and sobbed most of the night, wondering if she’d ever fit in, anywhere.

Courtney wasn’t that girl in the bar—Vixen knew that. But she was clearly tipsy, and some things, some decisions, required a clear head.

“It’s not you,” she finished lamely. “You’re amazing.”

Courtney nodded, swallowing her disappointment like a champ and saying, “You’re amazing.”

Before she left, Vixen leaned in and brushed her lips against Courtney’s cheek.

She walked toward the elevator, regret stinging the back of her throat. She had no idea how long it would be before they saw each other again, and suddenly her arbitrary rules based on one shitty asshole in a bar 7 years ago seemed...absurd. She turned back around. Courtney was still leaning in her open doorway, watching her walk away.

“Hey, how drunk are you, actually? Can you recite the Pledge of Allegiance?” Vixen asked.

“No—” Courtney said, brow furrowed.

“Oh.” Vixen’s heart deflated a bit.

“—Because we don’t have the Pledge of Allegiance in Australia.”

“Right,” Vixen laughed.

“But what about, um, okay...so...here's a story from A to Z. You wanna get with me, you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face. You got G like MC who likes it on a. Easy V doesn't-”

Vixen strode forward and silenced her with a kiss, soft and sweet, almost chaste at first, both of them giggling. As the kiss deepened, Vixen grabbed Courtney around the waist and pushed her backward into the room, letting the door slam shut behind them.

Vixen was so enamoured that she barely registered Courtney’s massive hotel suite, the entry hall or huge living room that Courtney led her through on the way to the bedroom. Guiding her by her hips to the bed, Courtney pushed her into a seated position and stood between her legs, chasing her lips as she took hold of her collar, fingering the little pearl buttons down the front of her shirt dress.

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Vixen nodded.

“Yeah.” She watched Courtney’s heavy-lidded eyes as she quickly opened the buttons, skin prickling as she pushed it off Vixen’s shoulders. She kissed Vixen again, deep and messy, sucking on her bottom lip.

Panting, Vixen reached around, fumbling for Courtney’s zipper. Once she pulled it down a few inches, the cotton dress easily came off over her head, and then there she was, standing in front of Vixen in nothing but a pair of baby blue panties.

Vixen swallowed, eyes sweeping over Courtney’s body, dying to touch her but nervous as all fuck.

“Listen, um...I should tell you…”

Courtney paused mid-way through opening Vixen’s belt to look at her curiously, face earnest and alert. The perfect student.

Vixen sighed. The fact that Courtney was so willing to listen, so considerate, should have been a bonus. But in this moment, it just made her feel startlingly inadequate. She hated this. The feeling of not being enough, or being too much. She didn’t even know anymore. All she knew was that she was about to make herself more vulnerable than she’d ever been, and she was terrified.

“So...Okay, um. I guess...it’s just been a long time since...I was with a girl.”

“Tell me about it,” Courtney said, grinning.

“No. A really long time,” Vixen said.

“Okay. Does that mean you don’t want-”

“No!” Vixen burst out, a little too emphatically, and then lowered her eyes bashfully, adding in a calmer voice, “No, I want to be with you, I just...might be a little out of practice.” It was an understatement, a lie of omission that unsettled Vixen’s stomach a bit. But it was all she felt comfortable with revealing at the moment, and she hoped that she’d be forgiven later.

“Hmm…” Courtney took Vixen’s face in her hands, tilting her chin up. “I think I can work with that…”

She bent down to kiss her again, soft as a whisper, fingers stroking Vixen’s cheekbones, before pulling back and gazing down at her.

“God,” Courtney breathed, “You are so beautiful.”

Vixen took in a shaky breath, her hands finally lifting to slide around Courtney’s hips. Something about the way Courtney looked at her was different than anything she’d ever experienced. She’d been the object of lust before, and sometimes very much enjoyed it. But this was more than that. She felt more than sexy, more even than beautiful. She felt seen.

But for once, rather than get all wrapped up in anxiety about what it meant, Vixen acted on instinct. She gripped Courtney's waist and pulled her forward, flinging her onto her back on bed. Courtney squealed delightedly, pulling her along.

Courtney smiled up at her, reaching a hand out but then pausing, letting her fingers rest on Vixen’s shoulder.

“Am I allowed to touch your hair? ‘Cause I’ve heard...”

Vixen couldn’t help laughing as she nodded and said, “That rule doesn’t really apply here.”

“Okay,” Courtney giggled, fingering her twists gently.

Vixen turned her head, pressing a kiss to Courtney’s wrist, then slowly moving up her arm, and finally nuzzling into her shoulder. Her skin smelled fresh and almost sweet, like she’d recently been in a doughnut shop. It wasn’t sugary like some kind of food-based perfume or soap, just a gentle, vague deliciousness that Vixen became addicted to immediately, burying her face into her neck to inhale deeply.

She found a soft, tender spot, just below Courtney’s ear, that made her sigh when kissed, and began to suck. Courtney inhaled sharply, hips thrusting up against Vixen’s, hands tightening in her hair.

“You like that?” Vixen asked, emboldened, hands sliding up from her waist to scratch gently at her ribcage.

“Uh huh,” Courtney breathed, arching up again as Vixen kissed her, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. A whimper fell from her lips.

Vixen’s dress was half off at this point, pushed down around her waist, and when Courtney’s fingers began to trail lightly up and down her back, she shivered. Courtney pushed the dress further down, wriggling it over Vixen’s hips to her thighs, and Vixen pulled it off the rest of the way.

She was expecting to feel uncomfortably exposed, both of them now just in their panties—a situation she hadn’t found herself in with a woman is a very fucking long time. Especially a woman she liked this much. But instead of feeling awkward, she found her pulse racing with excitement, nearly breathless in anticipation of what might come next.

She realized that she’d been frozen for a few moments when Courtney raised herself up on her elbows and asked, “Are you alright?”

Vixen nodded, and Courtney sat up further, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“You want to take a break? Slow things down?”

“No,” Vixen said simply, slipping her fingers under the sides of Courtney’s panties. Her hips lifted, allowed Vixen to slide them off easily, heart in her throat when she saw how glistening wet she was already. She knew that she was potentially in over her head, but there was also a strong urge to keep going, pulse racing with desire.

“Come here.” Courtney stretched out her arm, pulling Vixen in for a kiss, tongues tangling together. She rolled Vixen over, onto her back, grinding down against her.

As much as Vixen wanted to please her, ceding control to Courtney felt liberating. She watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Courtney lavished her with affection, layering kisses against her skin. When a warm tongue swirled over her nipple, her hips jerked up, a stifled moan escaping from her throat.

Courtney sucked harder on her nipple, hands sliding down her torso, lips following as they trailed over Vixen’s tense abdomen. She hooked her fingers into the sides of Vixen’s panties and then looked up questioningly.

“Can I...?”

“Go ahead,” Vixen replied, straining to raise her hips, finding her core muscles in a weakened state, skin so flushed and hot that for a moment, she barely remembered to be self-conscious. Until Courtney began to slide her panties down, and suddenly she remembered exactly what she’d been dreading. When the reality of who she was would confront Courtney, more than theoretical, more than an idea.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she watched Courtney’s face. If she had any qualms about a girl with a dick, she certainly didn’t show it. She simply continued to suck soft kisses into her skin, warm hands resting on her thighs.

Vixen finally relaxed backwards, eyes falling shut. She let go of all her worries, all her stupid insecurities. At least for now. At least while Courtney took her dick into her mouth, tongue flicking delicately at her. Vixen’s hips thrust upwards, hands gripping the comforter tightly, moans dripping from her lips like honey.

It had been so achingly long since anyone had touched her this way. Maybe no one ever had, she realized as she arched into the soft caresses. She’s certainly never experienced this kind of loving attention from a woman, a woman treating her like she was precious and beautiful, turning her into a gasping, quivering mess. Vixen felt herself falling apart quickly, losing control, nearly gone before she had the wherewithal to choke out a pained warning.

“I’m-I’m gonna-”

“Mmhmmm…” Courtney made no move to stop, swirling her tongue again, then taking her deeper, sucking harder.

“Oh fuck,” Vixen moaned, hips pumping uncontrollably as she came, gasping for air.

The way Courtney’s hands stroked her thighs, continued to suck softly as she melted backwards into the pillows, every muscle in her body going slack--the small part of her that was still conscious shivered with delight, thrilled with the feeling of being spoiled.

It wasn’t until her body was completely still, bones feeling like jelly, when Courtney began to work her way up her body once again, hands sliding over her skin until she came nose to nose with her once again.

Courtney smiled, kissing her cheeks, down along her jaw, the corner of her mouth. Lips rousing her from a state of sheer exhaustion into warm, sleepy affection. Her hands circled Courtney's waist.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Courtney murmured.

“Uh huh.”

Courtney giggled, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger as she pressed more kisses against her.

Vixen sighed contentedly, pulling her in close, not caring how clingy and pathetic she might seem, just wanting the warmth of Courtney’s body against her own. Courtney snuggled into her arms, slipping to the side of her, legs still tangled together.

After a few slow, lazy kisses, Vixen started to sense a shift. Courtney’s breath grew hot and ragged, hips rutting against her. She cautiously moved a hand down, working it in between her thighs, fingers seeking out her wet heat.

“Show me what you want,” she urged, desire to give Courtney pleasure finally outweighing her fear of looking like an amateur.

Courtney lifted her head, giving her a sleepy grin and reaching down to guide her. She patiently showed Vixen exactly where to touch her, what to do to tease her, when to speed up and circle her clit, how deep for her fingers to go and exactly how to curl them to make her tremble. Vixen followed her breathless instructions, guided by Courtney’s own hand, thrilled at the way her body responded.

Soon, Courtney’s eyes were rolled back, muscles straining, tits brushing against Vixen’s chest as she thrusted against her fingers, fucking down into them, breathy moans music to Vixen’s ears. Her hips moved faster and faster until she stopped, whimpering, just barely grinding against the heel of Vixen’s hand, lips pressed to her neck.

Vixen had never made a girl come before, and it was so much more beautiful than she’d imagined, from the way her lashes fluttered against her cheeks to the slick sheen of sweat on her forehead, to her ass flexing, muscles still twitching against Vixen’s fingers. And the best part, the way she looked up at Vixen at the end, eyes locked with hers as the waves of pleasure radiated through her body, fingers wound tightly into her hair.

“Fuck,” Courtney sighed, collapsing against Vixen’s body, trapping her hand for a few moments before realizing it and letting her wriggle free with a sleepy laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Vixen said, tilting her chin up for a kiss. Her whole body had suddenly become soft and pliant, and all Vixen wanted was to wrap her into an embrace. She wasn’t expecting it to feel this intimate. A part of her had even worried that this whole affair would be wrapped up in a one-night stand. But as Courtney cuddled against her, heart still hammering, she felt closer to her than ever. “I should probably tell you…”

“Mmm?”

“What I said earlier, about not being with a girl in a long time?” Vixen swallowed. “I uh...I haven’t really had a girlfriend since high school. And I guess I’ve come close since then, but never really went through with it...as me. The real me.”

Courtney lifted her head, fingers trailing down Vixen’s arm, a smile playing on her lips.

“Thank you for trusting me with the real you,” she said softly.

Vixen nodded, not sure what more there was to add, when a clap of thunder outside scared the living shit out of her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. So much for a warm and fuzzy moment.

Courtney laughed, pulling up the covers and cocooning them both, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” she said, snuggling tight against Vixen’s body.

“You better,” Vixen replied.

#rpdr fanfiction #the vixen #courtney act #honey mahogany #latrice royale #courtney x vixen #trans!vixen #fluff #smut #mild angst #lesbian au #galactica au #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #revelation sunshine #veronica #trans character #tw mention of past transphobia

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keeroo92 · 5 years ago

Text

Be My Nightmare Ch15

Run

The usual blood/gore warnings apply, plus mentions of alcoholism and *gasp* sex.

Word Count - 5,950

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

________

~~~~Reader~~~~

Ugh… why is it so hot in here?

You blinked your eyes and groaned, licking your dry lips as a pounding headache announced its presence. The familiar weight of blankets pressed upon your body, but something wasn’t right. The texture was off, like a layer was missing…

What happened to my shirt?

For that matter, why did your mouth taste like salt?

Oh shit.

The memories of the night prior flooded your mind, hazy and confused but clear enough to explain the flavor on your lips. Dinner, whiskey and drinking games, and…

Oh SHIT.

Bedding rustled as you rolled over with a grimace, expecting to find a certain murderous artist by your side. Instead, you found only empty space; the other side of the bed didn’t appear to have been disturbed all night. Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

It didn’t matter. First order of business was getting coffee and some ibuprofen. Everything else would have to wait.

You took your time clambering out of bed, muttering expletives with each motion. The neutral walls and unobtrusive decor did little to ease the urge to vomit, but it was the stairs that made you pause, remembering how you struggled with them last night.

Just take it slow. One step at a time.

By the time you reached the last step, your hands were screaming to release the railing. Even so, you waited a moment to regain your balance before acquiescing.

Your tired eyes scanned the familiar shapes of your apartment, searching for a head of tousled ebony locks. He couldn’t have left, could he? Where would he go? Was he out killing someone right this very moment?

You couldn’t discount the possibility as you found no trace of the man.

Goddamnit, V! After everything I’ve done to cover your ass…

How could he be so stupid?! If anyone saw him and recognized him, he’d end up right back in police custody! It didn’t make any sense to take the risk, what the hell was he thinking?

You pulled out your phone and opened your email, tapping at the painfully bright screen until you found what you were looking for. It was a long shot, but you were desperate. It might already be too late, you might just make everything worse, but at this point you were screwed anyway.

You pursed your lips and waited, eyes locked on the screen as if you could make him answer through sheer force of will. Every second he failed to respond heightened your anxiety, innumerable disastrous scenarios playing like a sick film in your imagination. Not since junior high had you been so anxious to hear from someone. Damn him!

Releasing a huff of annoyance, you forced yourself to set the phone down and make coffee. The pounding of your headache wasn’t going to fade unless you took action, and you needed to be able to focus and think clearly. Getting emotional helped nobody.

As you readied the coffee machine, ears perked in case your phone alerted you to a response, you noticed something odd. The dishes from last night’s dinner were clean, sitting on the drying rack as if you’d scrubbed them in your sleep.

The madman had cleaned up.

But something was missing.

He stole my sharpest knife. Fuck.

Your head swam and sweat dotted your palms. He might have taken it just as a precaution, but more likely he was out making another art piece. What message was he crafting? No doubt you’d find out sooner or later; the police would probably be in touch once the scene was discovered. At least he did his work in private areas, that lessened the chance he’d be caught in the act.

But still.

You sighed, hoping against hope that he was safe as you poured a cup of dark roast and took a sip. Bitter and strong, just how you liked it. A dose of ibuprofen accompanied the next gulp.

I’m not an idiot teenager. Sitting here and waiting won’t make a difference.

Even so, a moment later you checked your phone. Still no response. Damn him!

Part of you wanted to scream and throw the slim device against the wall. Another part wished for nothing more than a good cry. A whirlwind of emotions, swirling like a tempest at sea, leaving you to battle the waves or drown beneath them.

What if he has another episode? There’s no one there to help him and make sure he’s okay.

Going catatonic at the wrong time may lead to his death. Crossing the street, driving a car, even stalking his prey could leave him exposed and at risk. Heaven forbid it happened in the middle of his creative process; his victim would have the perfect chance to turn the tables and kill him.

But what could you do to prevent it? How could you keep him safe?

Not to mention the fact that maybe he wouldn’t welcome your aid. It was possible he left with no intention of returning, abandoning you like all the rest. All you’d have to remind you of his presence would be the sketches from his sessions and the absence of your knife. It’d be like he never existed at all, the puzzle of his mind left unsolved.

A tight ball of grief twisted your heart, pins pricking at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. After all the people who’d turned their back on you, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the artist did the same. What did you have to offer him, anyway? You should’ve expected it, been ready for it. Why did it always hurt so damned much?

I should just turn myself in… what’s the point anymore? I can’t fix myself; I’m going to be broken forever. No one would miss me anyway.

The thought sent a dagger into your chest, the blade twisting and shredding the last remnants of hope you held. What a stupid thing, to hope. It only brought more pain. Better to accept things the way they were than waste time striving for something better.

Sniffling quietly, you stepped away from the kitchen to part the curtains and grimace at the bright street below, just in case you could spot him. The area you lived in wasn’t crowded; the peace and seclusion brought you comfort in the past. Today, it only hammered home how very alone you were.

Another glance at your phone. Still nothing.

He’s gone.

Your shoulders curled inward as a single, strangled sob broke free. Blinking back pointless tears, you swallowed and released a shaky breath, fighting to remain in control. Old habits died hard, and crying wasn’t something you’d allowed yourself to indulge in for many years. Even as you were dying inside, you refused to let the agony show.

Stop it, Y/N. Think about something else, pull yourself together.

A dark sedan caught your teary eyes. Unfamiliar and parked a few spaces down from your own old beater of a car, it seemed out of place somehow. Like it didn’t belong; an outlier. You pursed your lips and looked closer, letting the puzzle of its presence distract you from your aching soul. Why did it stand out so much?

It’s too clean.

Indeed, the vehicle shone with its lack of filth. In a city with a grand total of two car washes, a clean car was a rare sight. Whoever drove it must have an interesting list of priorities.

Wait… it couldn’t be.

Your focus narrowed on the license plate. From that distance, it wasn’t easy to tell, but the spacing of the digits left a strange void. Right where the three letters that mark all undercover law enforcement vehicles could be found. XMT.

Exempt.

“You gotta be shitting me,” you murmured, stunned. Cops. Here, at your home.

I’m under police surveillance.

You stumbled back from the window, heart racing. Did they already have V in custody? Had he sold you out? What the hell made the cops think you merited surveillance? You’d been so careful to play along, something must have happened for them to suddenly be paying attention to you.

Not that they were wrong.

You couldn’t help but release a peal of manic laughter. This was your life now, watched by the authorities and worrying about the well-being of a man who left you behind. Pitiful.

I can’t do this, I just can’t.

V was right; you’d been hiding for decades. Concealing your flaws as best you could in the hope that you could one day heal them. Pretending to be all right when you were anything but. You’d grown so accustomed to the mask you didn’t even know what was behind it anymore.

Your body hit the counter, the sturdy structure supporting your spine as you slid to the floor. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around your knees and curled inwards, cocooning yourself as best you could.

With your life in the state it was in, what was the point of it all? Coming back from this disaster would be near impossible. Just thinking about it made your legs feel like lead. An uphill battle to be fought alone was all that awaited you in the weeks to come. Who in their right mind would come to your aid? No; you had no allies. Others couldn’t be trusted, anyway.

V had abandoned you. Kotomi betrayed you, and Malphas… Malphas simply couldn’t be bothered. He hadn’t reached out a single time since your suspension. He obviously didn’t care about you, and he was far too intelligent not to know what really happened on the day of the fire. No, he knew. He just thought Kotomi was more worthy of his protection than you were.

And those were just the people who’d walked away in the last month and a half.

A humorless laugh split your lips. Maybe your dad was right all along.

Once they get what they want, the people I care about will forget I ever existed. Caring only brings pain.

~~~~V~~~~

Elegant fingers clutched a paper bag in a tight grip, green eyes scanning the block for any sign of danger. He didn’t think there was any reason to fear, but one could never be too careful. The knife in his pocket comforted his nerves as he crossed the last intersection and peered into the parking lot or your apartment complex.

Odd. I don’t recall that car.

His errand hadn’t taken long, perhaps twenty minutes if he were being generous. All his friends begged him to stay put, but their warnings fell on deaf ears. You really didn’t stock your kitchen well, and after last night you’d need a solid breakfast.

Beanie pulled tight against his scalp, V longed to tear it off and scratch away the irritation it brought. He’d tucked his locks within it and borrowed a hoodie from your closet to hide his tattoos. So far, it had been enough to disguise him, but this newcomer made him pause.

Tinted windows. Shadowy outlines of two figures in the front. The vehicle was parked in the ideal spot to watch the front door of the building; it would be impossible to enter without being seen. While he couldn’t be sure who occupied the car, it simply wasn’t worth the risk.

The artist withdrew, traversing the sidewalk beside your building and thanking his lucky stars for the shrubbery that hid him from view. An urge to look over his shoulder swept through his mind, but he ignored it. If someone was watching, it would only make him seem more suspicious. Better to appear unconcerned, as if he belonged here.

If one cannot avoid being seen, one can still avoid standing out.

From what he recalled, your apartment was in the south east corner, two floors up. With only one entrance on ground level, he'd need to get creative to find a way back to you.

He smirked. Creativity wasn’t something he struggled with.

Within moments he found salvation; an iron wrought fire escape firmly anchored on the eastern wall. He climbed it quickly. Surely you were awake by now, and hopefully coherent enough to let him in. If not, he could settle in and wait.

Yet through the gauzy curtains covering your window, he spotted you. Curled up on the floor in the kitchen, head bowed. Likely due to the hangover you were sure to be suffering from. Perhaps he should’ve stopped you sooner last night. He tapped the glass with his free hand.

The look on your face as you lifted your head stopped his breath. Vacant eyes, tear tracks on your cheeks on either side of your red and runny nose. It was a look he knew intimately, one of grief and mourning. He’d seen it on his own features for many months after Nero’s passing.

Whatever happened to summon such an expression of sorrow would meet the end of his blade. Quickly.

He tapped the glass again, rewarded when your face shifted to recognition. Those delectable fingers he so adored tasting wiped away tears as you came to let him in.

“Where were you?” you asked the moment he was inside. “Is that my sweater?”

This is a waste of time. She’s more trouble than she’s worth.

The artist clenched his hands and growled. “Stay out of it.”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, setting his package on the nearby countertop. “Not you; Vergil was being rude.”

You sniffled, dewy eyed and with fidgeting hands . “Right. S- so, where did you go?”

“It doesn’t matter. What’s wrong?”

The blade in his pocket called to him, urging him to wield it against your foes. He would not allow anything to interfere with his plans for you, not when you were making such excellent progress.

“I’m fine, it’s nothing,” you said dismissively. “What’s in the bag?”

It was obvious you were not fine, but pressing the issue might do more harm than good. Better to distract you and ask again later, when you were calm. “Here, let me show you.”

Your eyes went wide as he unwrapped the chunk of meat. Blood dripped from the tissue he’d used to wrap it and beautifully soaked the counter with his favorite shade of crimson. If only he had a camera handy…

“That’s not… human, is it?”

Griffon’s raucous laughter filled his mind, but V only smirked. “Bovine, actually.”

“Ohthankgod…”

At that, he did chuckle. While the human form made a splendid canvas, it didn’t appeal to him as a meal. He had his limits. “I thought I could make you breakfast.”

As if your strings had been cut, you fell into one of the chairs by the counter and stared at him incredulously. “Breakfast… you risked being seen… to make me breakfast.”

He scoffed and reached for a frying pan, flicking the stovetop on with his free hand. “Indeed, though I wouldn’t call it a risk. I wore a disguise.”

You pursed your lips as he seasoned the meat. “You mean my bright orange volleyball sweater? Yeah, you are the epitome of discretion.”

An undercurrent of irritation spoiled your teasing statement. Shadow growled her displeasure and V clenched his jaw. Here he was trying to do something thoughtful and kind, and you only got upset with him. Vergil would surely tease him about it later. Wonderful.

“Sorry. I just... “ you murmured. “I just didn’t know if you were coming back, and-”

“And you think so little of me that you imagined I’d abandoned you?” he snapped, setting aside the spatula and turning to face you. Breakfast could wait.

You refused to meet his eyes, a stony expression locked in place like a barrier against his annoyance. “Why not? Everyone else has.”

There, she gave you the perfect opening. Leave now and don’t look back.

Yeah, even I say it’s bail time. Gotta draw the line somewhere, pal.

His patience shattered. The artist slammed his palms on the counter with an animalistic snarl, barely noticing how you jumped. “ENOUGH! My decision is made and I will not hear any further protests! Aid me or be silent, all of you!” he roared.

For several seconds, the only sound in your spacious apartment was his panting breath. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart pounding in preparation to do battle, yet it seemed his friends would abide. For now.

He released a long sigh and tore the accursed beanie from his scalp, ruffling his hair to relieve the itchiness. Your sweater wasn’t far behind. A twitch of his slim wrist and the stove was off, waiting until the mood befitted a meal.

“I must apologize. My friends are quite insistent at times, but in this they cannot sway me,” he began, circling the counter to sit beside you. He peeked through his dark hair to meet your eyes, still wary but warming with each word he spoke. “Forgive my boldness, but I’m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled and offered a subdued smile. “Leave a damned note next time, okay?”

He hummed his agreement and offered his palm. “Deal. Now, come help me with breakfast.”

~~~~Reader~~~~

You spent the next half hour watching V orchestrate a feast. He moved like a dancer through the kitchen, practiced hands flying as he flipped a massive omelet and expertly seared meat. A content smile graced his full lips as he cooked; the man was truly at his happiest when being creative.

The best help you could offer was staying out of his way.

Not to say he let you sit back and idly watch; not at all. He had you chop vegetables and set the table, taking the chance to touch your shoulder or waist when you were close enough. It was peaceful, like an island in the tempest raging around you. If only things could be like this every day.

But you were a realist, and eventually you couldn’t keep from shattering the illusion.

“So I take it you saw the cops outside? That’s why you took the fire escape, right?”

V frowned as he dished up your half of the omelet. “I wasn’t sure they were cops, but caution seemed prudent.”

You sighed and carried the very full plates to the table, silverware and napkins already prepared. The savory scent of steak brought a flood to your mouth as you took your seat. “Yeah, I think I’m under surveillance.”

The sting of it still hurt. Tony and Nico seemed like nice people, but one of them must have suspicions. It was only a matter of time before the house of cards came tumbling down. All it would take was a moment of inattention, V walking by a window at the wrong moment or getting spotted on his way back inside; it was foolish to imagine he wouldn’t go out again.

So. Options.

“I think our best play is for me to leave. Since they’re watching me, they should follow. Then, you can leave and find somewhere else to lay low.”

The artist smirked, taking a bite of fluffy eggs. “I could just dispose of the issue.”

You shook your head and cut off a chunk of meat, moaning quietly at the exquisite flavor. “No, this looks above board. They’d just send more cops and get more suspicious.”

Not to mention all the other reasons murder isn’t the right way to solve your problems...

Before he could reply, a sharp knock on the door stole your attention. Your eyes and V’s went wide in unison, though his hand hovered by his pocket far too quickly for your liking. He still hadn’t returned your knife…

“Squirt, it’s me! I know you’re home, saw your car.”

Ice filled your veins. He wouldn’t leave without getting whatever he came for, he never did. Damnit, of all the times he could've picked to randomly show up! Was he drunk? What the fuck did he want? You sighed.

“It’s my father. Take your plate and go upstairs. I’ll get him to leave as soon as I can.”

The artist’s eyes flashed. “The drinker?”

“Yes, just go! He can’t find out you’re here.”

His nostrils flared, jaw tight. His posture reminded you forcefully that he wasn’t just some guy you had over for breakfast; this was a serial killer with untold amounts of blood on his hands. A man mentally unstable enough to be sent to a psychiatric hospital, with frequent auditory and occasional visual hallucinations. “Unpredictable and dangerous” was putting it mildly.

Though, some problems can be solved with murder.

“Just say the word, you’ll never have to deal with him again.”

Instead of answering him, you stood and headed for the door. Following your instructions at last, V ascended the stairs with a frown. He’d just have to deal with it, it’s not like these were normal circumstances.

With your best false smile in place, you opened the door. “Hi dad. What are you doing here?”

Greasy brown hair covered a growing bald patch on his scalp. A beer gut bulged out from his flannel tee, a stench of Miller radiating from him like cheap drugstore cologne. A few days worth of stubble cast a shadow on his jaw.

At least he’s not covered in vomit.

“Heya, squirt! You gonna invite me in?”

Do I have a choice?

“Yeah, of course. Come in.”

You made it a point to not socialize with him unless he initiated. There was too much bad blood, too many tainted memories and half-hearted apologies. He was beyond forgiveness and you were done trying to build a bridge when he insisted on burning it down. The most you’d grant him was civility, if only to avoid outright conflict.

“Nice place. Kinda too perfect, though.”

Ten seconds in, and already he’d insulted you. Not a new record, but close. “I like it this way. Uh, what… what are you doing here?”

He shot you a lopsided grin, displaying his yellowed teeth. “Can’t a father visit his genius daughter? C’mon, let’s catch up. You got anything to drink?”

Not after last night, no.

But you let him see for himself. He wouldn’t take your word for it if you tried, anyway. Like many alcoholics, he always believed himself to be the victim of persecution. As if it excused his rotten behavior.

“Nothing?” he said at last, closing the final cupboard. “Damn, you’re lame…”

“S- sorry. Maybe we can go out instead?”

It set your teeth on edge to hear yourself stutter. In high school, it’d been the main reason you got picked on, along with your father’s history. It wasn’t easy to escape the blight of sharing blood with the man. Just one night, a mere handful of hours to keep your secrets hidden. You could tolerate him that long, surely.

“Nah, how about you just run to the store and get me something like a good girl?”

Don’t you call me that. Don’t you dare call me that.

You bit your tongue. Emotions were just a chemical reaction; you were in control. He just stimulated the neurons that brought this feeling on, it wasn’t like he had any actual power over you. Not anymore.

“Look, this, uh, this isn’t really a good time for me. Can we catch up later this week?” you replied. A mask of neutrality paralyzed your face, but inside you were screaming.

Get out! Get out of my home, this place is mine and I won’t let you ruin it! Haven’t you done enough damage?

You knew better than to let the words take shape as your father settled into your couch, propping his legs up and sighing happily. “Truth is, I got evicted. Got nowhere else to go, so figured I’d stay with you until I get back on my feet. Hell, you could even help me get going like you used to.”

Never had V’s method of solving problems appealed to you more. It didn’t matter how much you wanted him to leave - you would never agree to be his accomplice again. “What about a hotel? My couch isn’t that comfortable.”

He chuckled, gesturing dismissively as if your words held no weight. “S’fine, I’ll take the bed. Oh, is that steak? Awesome!”

1000… 993… 986…

The sound of his chewing and happy moans barely preceded V’s footsteps.

No, no, nonono! What are you doing?! You idiot!

“Good evening,” the artist began, approaching your father’s meat-stuffed face with his own plate in hand. Though his expression was still, sparks of rage flickered in his green depths and his hand twitched toward his pocket. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough already…

“Uh, hi? Who are you?”

One metaphorically bloodstained hand extended over the table to shake the equally morally questionable hand of your kin. “You can call me V.”

“Heh. V. Weird name. You sleeping with my daughter?”

Someone please just kill me. I’m so fucking done.

It wasn’t embarrassment that made you purse your lips as V sat down. It was the knowledge of what would inevitably come out of your father’s lips and the potentially atomic reaction it would elicit from V.

“More or less,” replied the artist, taking a bite of his own steak.

Your father glanced at you and smirked, as if to say ‘watch this’. A sinkhole opened in your stomach as he licked his lips. This was it, train wreck in five, four, three...

“You sure you want her? She’s kinda… well... “ his voice dropped. “She’s kinda nuts.”

A flash of silver, copper staining the air as fresh blood soaked your table. Maniacal laughter and a twisted sense of relief, that at least you’d never have to hear his voice again, endure his insults or manipulations…

That was what you expected.

You did not expect V to laugh and wave you over, wrapping an arm around your waist possessively the moment you were close enough. You did not expect him to smile at you fondly and never would you have imagined his response.

“I know. That’s why I love her.”

Intricately tattooed fingers brought your hand to the artist’s lips for a kiss. You barely made it to the chair beside him before your legs refused to support you. Love… Is that what he called it? It had to be an act, some scheme to throw off your father.

He can’t be serious.

“You got some fucking shitty taste in women, then, my friend. The last guy she was with wound up dead, the one before that still can’t walk properly.”

Beneath the table, V’s hand clenched yours in a vice-like grip. His wrist kept twitching, closer to his pocket where your knife still resided. It took all your strength to pull him back.

“Dad, knock it off. Let’s get you a hotel room, we can talk tomorrow.”

He took another bite and grinned. “Whasamatter? Don’t want me talking to your newest boy-toy?”

V’s grip tightened. You winced but refused to pull away, lest he lose control. How long had it been since he killed? Most killers had a pattern, a time frame. If he were overdue, restraining it would be even more difficult.

Defuse, deflect, de-escalate.

An obviously fake laugh found its way past your lips. “Aw, don’t worry. I’ll always be a daddy’s girl.”

The source for half of your genetic material burped and polished off the last bite of steak, chewing open-jawed as if trying to catch flies. “Good girl,” he said.

That time, it was your hand that twitched closer to the blade.

By all rights, you knew he was toying with you. Playing with your fucked-up head and sending it spinning, like a child’s top or a carousel. It was his standard opening move; destroy any existing emotional framework and get you to revert to being his “good girl”. Burn you to ash so he could rebuild you however he pleased. Remind you of how powerless you were and how easily he could ruin everything you built.

Angry tears prickled at your eyes, a baseball blooming into existence where your vocal cords were supposed to be. If you clenched your teeth any harder, you’d crack a molar. Every ounce of self-control and restraint went into withholding a scream.

~~~~V~~~~

Your father was perhaps the most magnificent canvas he’d ever seen. The sheer volume of ways he wanted to carve the man into pieces outnumbered the entirety of his portfolio. A slice here, a stab there, how delicious would it be to make the man eat his own eyeballs? His steaming entrails spilling onto the floor, his still-beating heart visible through the hole artistically positioned across his ribcage; the ideas refused to slow.

But you’d told him long ago not to harm the bastard.

Not yet...

“Let’s get the dishes started and give your father a moment to settle in, hmm?” V commented.

“Works for me. Where’s the remote, squirt?”

“Coffee table,” you ground out.

The instant the abominable man turned away, he pulled you to your feet and grabbed a dish. How would your father’s spleen look on a plate? Or perhaps his cock? The artist hummed; that was an idea worth revisiting.

The kitchen was barely far enough to be considered out of earshot, but it would have to suffice. He licked his lips and asked the first question that came to mind. “Why do you let him speak to you like that?”

A muscle in your cheek clenched as you released his palm, eyes narrowed into a ferocious glare. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Lithe fingers handed you a plate. “I strongly disagree.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Water spewed from the faucet and you commenced scrubbing, using more force than he imagined was required. He handed you the next plate. A knife was next, but he hesitated. It fit so well in his fingers, like it was calling his name…

Do it. Stab her, kill them both and leave. Enough foolishness.

He dropped the knife.

His words still echoed in his mind. “That’s why I love her.”

It wasn’t strictly a lie, but was it the truth? Why else did the monstrosity in the living room still breathe? Why else would he hesitate to slice the fool’s throat open and dance in the gushing fluid?

Yeesh, look what she’s turned you into, Van Gogh. This is just pathetic.

“Stop it,” he muttered, handing you the dropped knife as quickly as possible. The warmth and comfort it brought moments ago was but a memory. Only cold steel remained, foreign and obscene to his grip.

“Stop what?”

Kill her. She is nothing, a plaything you’ve outgrown. You’re free now, she is unnecessary.

He shook his head. Wide jade eyes searched for something safe to view. A cutting board? Perfect for slicing your thighs open. Kitchen shears? Excellent choice for severing tendons. A wine glass - the perfect container to hold your detached fingers.

Just do it, you’ll feel better. Trust us, have we ever led you wrong?

“V? What’s wrong?”

His skull was splitting, too many voices all at once and why wouldn’t they just shut up? Yours was the one life he wished to preserve, why did his friends want to end it? Far away, he heard your voice calling his name, but it was like you were a ghost calling from beyond the veil.

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her…

No!

Dainty hands wrapped around his torso, a warm voice telling him to breathe. He latched on with all he had, desperate to let those arms comfort him and bring him back to himself.

Kill her.

Agony.

Wave after wave of unbearable pain, rolling over him with no end in sight. Like a boulder on a beach, eventually he would wear away into nothingness. He was powerless against the inferno boiling his blood and the spikes digging into his gut.

Kill her.

He lacked the strength to stand and fell to his knees, groaning as he struggled to resist the shining blade glittering in the dishwasher. It would be so easy to end his suffering, all he had to do was take the handle and plunge it into your body. He could do it over and over until nothing remained but holes for him to fuck. To feel you wrapped around him was a persistent fantasy, how divine would it be to create caverns only he would ever enjoy?

“NO!”

The artist lurched to his feet and ran, sprinting to the exit as fast as his long stride would carry him. It didn’t matter that he had no sweater and no beanie, it didn’t matter that the police were right outside, he didn’t care that he would never again taste freedom.

All that mattered was putting distance between himself and you.

~~~~Reader~~~~

You stood in stunned silence as the door swung shut behind V’s departing figure. The sink still sprayed water, ricocheting off a forgotten plate to douse the counter and your stomach but it didn’t matter.

The wanted murderer you’d been giving shelter was gone. Running outside in full view of the police watching you.

Your life was over.

“Fuck…”

Somehow, throughout this whole mess you’d believed you could put your life back together. There was always a path back, always a way to move forward. It wouldn’t be easy, nor quick, but it was still possible.

V had just drenched that chance with gasoline and tossed a lit match on it.

It happened so fast; your hands still hovered where you’d been trying to hold him. Leftover heat from his body warmed the air and his scent lingered in your nostrils like a memory.

“Where’d that loser go? You scare him off?”

Your shell-shocked gaze turned to your father. Everything was fine before he showed up. Did he even know what he’d done? Did he care? “He’s… he’s gone.”

“Good riddance, I say. Now it’s just me and you, like old times.”

Old times…

There was still hope. Maybe the cops were gone, maybe V managed to slip past them. You could still salvage this. You had to at least try.

But… how?

You closed your eyes, mind racing. There were two obstacles you had to deal with; the cops, and your father. Operating on the assumption that all was not lost meant that the cops could be ignored for now. If they were still a factor, it was a moot point.

That left your father.

The man who took less than ten seconds to insult you when he arrived.

The man who coerced you into counting cards as a child.

The man who’d run over a kid in your third grade class.

The man who demanded everything and gave nothing back.

The man who would sell you out as soon as he’d blink.

The old you would have backed down and meekly done as he told you. Gone back to pretending you were okay and that you felt things the same way as everyone else. Accepted his praise and craved more, never imagining there was a different life out there for you.

I can’t- what do I do? What would V do?

You already knew the answer. He’d do what was necessary. The artist would never pretend, he’d tear the mask from his face and scream his defiance to the world. No matter the cost, he would not shy away from it.

No more hiding.

A trembling hand reached into the soapy water and grasped the same blade V stole just hours ago. How fitting, to use it for this.

It’s time to take action.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

#fanfiction #fanfic #Be My Nightmare #my writing #DMCV #DMC #devil may cry #reader insert #tw: gore #tw: blood #tw: alcoholism

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porkchop-ao3 · 5 years ago

Text

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 34)

The Gilded Cage

We’re off to a party at the mayor’s house! I hope you like this one, guys :)

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

I regretted my decision to sit by the fire almost instantly. I'd made some oatmeal for breakfast and had wandered over, thinking the area was void of people; awake ones, anyway, Javier and Lenny were curled up asleep under the shelter opposite the log I'd chosen. I'd already committed to sitting there when I realised that Micah was there too, lounging under the shelter next to it, I hadn't registered him due to his stillness and silence, but when he moved to pull a drag from the cigarette he was smoking, I saw him. He was watching me, his face neutral, though erring towards a glare if I focused on the slight narrowing of his eyes and the way he did not look away when my eyes met his.

"Morning, Micah," I said curtly.

Micah didn't answer, continuing to stare and smoke across the fire. His silence drew on, the crackle of the fire and Javier's quiet, occasional snore my only answer. My gut churned and I tried to focus on my breakfast, forcing it down, knowing my sudden loss of appetite didn't mean I wasn't hungry.

"I'd appreciate it if we could be civil," I said quietly, then took a mouthful of oatmeal.

Micah scoffed. "Is a man not allowed to sit quietly and enjoy the morning peace without being accused of not being civil?"

"Sorry," I shook my head, not looking at him.

He went quiet again, but after a while, he sighed. "Just so you know, I ain't sad. I ain't over here wallowing, feeling sorry for myself over you."

"I didn't think you were."

"You really ain't that special after all," he shrugged and I smiled to myself, thinking back to our conversation at the Parlour House where he'd said the exact opposite. I wasn't surprised he'd been saying it to butter me up.

"I know."

"Morgan's welcome to you," he muttered, flicking his cigarette away and standing up, strolling past me, "enjoy your breakfast," he added snidely.

I looked up at him and watched his back as he left, his hand hooked on his belt, his gait slow and self assured. Conflict was not something that I enjoyed, but I found myself getting irritated by that stroll of his. I sighed and shook my head.

Footsteps approached from behind, and I looked up in time to see Arthur stepping over the log before sitting down beside me. He was carrying a letter in his hand, his eyes cast down towards it, a slight frown marring his brow. He didn't say anything in greeting.

"Hello," I said curiously, and there was a pause before he responded distractedly.

"Hey," he said, then after a moment he looked up at me, then handed me the letter.

"What's this?" I questioned, looking down to the bottom of the page where the letter was signed off. Mary.

"Mary's contacted me again. She's in the city, apparently, wants to see me again," he told me.

I quickly skim read her letter, wincing at the words on the page, wondering why on Earth Arthur had given it to me. It was full of hopeless pleading, speaking of change and how Arthur could not seem to do it, how he could not be a man. She wanted his help again, it appeared, she begged. I handed it back to him when I was done, finished off the last of my oatmeal, all the while feeling Arthur's expectant eyes on me.

"Well, she sounds like she's in a tricky situation of some sort. You gonna help her?" I asked, finally looking at him. He stared blankly for a moment.

"I don't know, I was sort of hoping you'd tell me what you thought I should do," he laughed a little. I raised a brow, unsure how to respond to that.

"Mary is your… friend. I can't tell you how to deal with her. I know last night you said you ain't had to do much thinking for yourself, Arthur, but this is one of those times you're gonna need to practice," I chuckled.

"I can't just go back to her, can I? Not when I'm with you. That wouldn't be fair. I ain't thought of her in ages, darlin', and I'm gonna get tired real quick if she's gonna keep seeking me out whenever she needs someone to do her dirty work," he grumbled, shaking his head and smacking the letter with the back of his hand in distaste.

"Then don't go," I shrugged. His face contorted, my answer obviously not sitting right with him either.

"That's what I should do, ain't it?" He murmured, mostly to himself. He stared down at the letter, rubbing the dip below his bottom lip with the tip of his thumb.

I watched him for a moment, then took a breath. "I won't be mad if you want to see her."

"I don't want to see her," he was quick to correct me, "but that don't mean I feel content with tossin' this letter and ignoring her. That wouldn't be right."

"Then go!" I laughed, though it wasn't full of humour. "Arthur, it's up to you. I can understand your decision either way, she ain't exactly making things easy for you."

"I'll go. I'll go and you'll come with me, you can meet her and we'll tell her about us. Like I said last time, maybe if she sees I've moved on she might feel contacting me asking for help all the time is inappropriate," he said.

My lips parted, my heart thumping uncomfortably in my chest, eyes widening. Arthur didn't notice.

"I told her last time I couldn't drop everything for her and she needed to look elsewhere if she wanted an errand boy, that didn't sink in, clearly. So I guess it's come to this," he continued shaking his head, "she don't seem to understand that she puts me in a difficult position when she sends me letters like this, it pulls me right back to when she and I– it just don't feel good."

I dropped my focus to the glowing cracks in the wood of the campfire, trying to settle my anxiety, taking slow, quiet breaths. I saw Arthur look towards me from the corner of my eye, then heard him sigh.

"And it ain't fair on you," he added, then tossed the letter into the flames right in front of me, making me jump.

For some reason I flinched, almost going to grab the letter out of instinct as if it had been an accident, but I caught myself. I turned my wide eyes to him.

"I'm sorry, angel," he whispered, "I'm not going. I shouldn't even think twice about it when I've got you I should be focusing all my attention on."

"Arthur, you don't have to be like this for me," I shook my head and he reached for my hand, cupping it between both of his, stroking the back of it with his palm, "she was your fiancé," I added.

"You knew about that?" He frowned, then shook his head dismissively. "Yeah, she was. Until she decided to call the whole thing off and marry some other feller, spitting on everything she and I had together."

"I'm sorry," I breathed.

"Well," he sighed, looking guilty, "it was a little more complicated than that. I weren't being totally fair, neither of us were innocent, we hurt each other. Anyway, I'm trying to move forward and build something with you, I refuse to let her make me keep one foot in the past, Lord knows I did that for too long."

"If you're sure," I said, though I felt a little guilty being the reason he wanted to ignore her letter. It was Arthur's decision, though, however he made it.

"I'm completely sure," he lifted one hand to my cheek, stroking his thumb across the top of my cheekbone. He moved in to kiss me once. "I miss that hotel room already. Things were nice there, just me and you," he whispered when our lips parted, only for him to kiss me again right after.

Arthur tilted his head, deepening the kiss. All of my guilt and worry ebbed away, my heart rate slowed to a pace that was only elevated because of excitement, not anxiety, it thrummed more pleasantly in my chest, fluttering like the butterflies in my stomach. It was just Arthur and I, like nobody else existed for those moments. It didn't occur to me once where we were, until I heard a laugh.

Arthur and I immediately broke away from each other and looked towards the noise; Javier was in the process of sitting up, just woken up, looking between us.

"Don't let me disturb you," he teased, smirking, then got up and left us to grab himself some coffee. Regardless, Arthur and I put a little distance between us. Just because we weren't worried about keeping our relationship quiet anymore, it didn't mean we were going to start ramming it down everyone's throats.

"Did you speak to Hosea and Dutch about the mayor's party?" Arthur asked after a short stretch of quiet.

"Oh, yeah, well I spoke to Hosea. He said he'd ask Dutch, but he thought it was a good idea; said we'd look a little more upstanding if we had a lady in the group," I grinned, and Arthur chuckled.

Dutch took some convincing – mainly the work of Hosea – but eventually he came around to the idea of having me attend the party. There were conditions, however, we were there to work, to find leads, not simply to get a taste of high society life. He said it to me as if I was interested in that sort of thing, I told him not to worry, I'd already been working on my persona and a plan to seek out something worthwhile. He also warned me not to distract any of the other men while they were looking for their own leads, and that one almost made me roll my eyes. What did he take me for?

So, all of us – Dutch, Hosea, Bill, Arthur and I – headed to Saint Denis to get ourselves cleaned up for the party. We went to the tailor's and each bought a new outfit for the occasion; I ended up in a ball gown the likes of which I'd never worn in my life. It was a salmon pink off-the-shoulder thing with a gathered, satin, wrap-around style bodice and wide skirt with more gathers at the front, the fabric lifted to reveal a layer of lighter pink satin underneath trimmed with lace. The dress was adorned with ribbons and bows and a ruffle on the bust that made me look more endowed than I really was, helped along by the corset that went with it that did an excellent job of pushing my breasts up till I could practically rest my chin on them.

Heading back to camp before the party saw me surrounded by the girls, Miss Grimshaw and Mary-Beth worked together to do my hair while the others (excluding Sadie, who was decidedly not interested in the ball and Molly, who was decidedly bitter that Dutch hadn't asked her to come) spoke excitedly about what a ball at the mayor's house might be like. I was nervous by the time I was ready and the sun was on its way down, and we were all piled into a stagecoach together on our way.

I was crammed in between Bill and Hosea, sat opposite Arthur and Dutch. Hosea was talking about how he used to attend balls quite often, and I was surprised until he revealed it was more about pick-pocketing than anything else. We all shared a laugh.

"Remember, we're here to make contacts. So, no pick-pocketing, no cons," Dutch began, looking to me before continuing, "well, loosely speaking. You see an opportunity to set something up, go ahead, but the point is we don't wanna attract any attention just yet."

"What sort of contacts we trying to make here?" Arthur questioned, shaking his head and seeming amused by the whole thing.

"I guess we'll find out when we get inside," Dutch laughed, "we're heading into a party at the mayor's house where the guest of honour is the worst crook in town. Rest assured, Arthur, we're bound to find something."

I laughed, looking down at my hands, twisting a ring around that Tilly had lent to me for the occasion, taking a breath to calm my nerves.

"When we get there, Arthur and I will go in and reacquaint ourselves with Bronte, you fellers, go find somewhere quiet and we'll meet you out there. And you, my dear," Dutch continued, and I looked up when he addressed me, "you head into the party and start mingling. Use your womanly charm to get us some information about something we might be able to steal, some poor feller worth robbing, anything."

"Womanly charm," Arthur chuckled, but it seemed a little tense, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means a feller's more likely to trust an attractive young lady – or better yet, try to impress her – with some information about how well he's doing for himself, than he is a mean lookin' tough guy such as yourself," Dutch explained in a low voice, "and that is information we might be able to use."

I felt my face heat up at the way Dutch referred to me as an attractive young lady, especially when all the men in the coach turned to look at me at that moment precisely. Arthur's eyes stayed on me long after the others turned away.

"It's a fair point," Bill said. Arthur shrugged then looked back at Dutch.

"Fair enough. Now what am I doing?" Arthur asked.

"We'll figure that out once we get inside, we're here."

We arrived outside of the house, a beautiful place lit up and alive with the sound of music drifting onto the streets from what sounded like the garden around the back. We all climbed out of the stagecoach, and Bill awkwardly offered a hand to help me down after scrubbing it against his trouser leg, since he was the one who climbed out before me. I took it and thanked him, and he was quick to let go as soon as I was down safely, acting like it never happened. I chuckled to myself, and came to walk beside Arthur who was waiting for me.

"You ready for this?" He uttered to me under his breath. A smile lifted my lips and I gave him a look of reassurance.

"Ready or not, we're heading in. We'll be fine," I told him, looking him up and down in his suit.

Christ almighty, Arthur in a suit, now that was a sight I could get used to. He looked incredibly handsome, his hair slicked back with pomade, his beard freshly trimmed to a short, neat stubble.

"You certainly scrub up well," I purred, and Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly distracted by one of the gentlemen standing at the front gate, greeting people.

"I'm afraid the mayor doesn't allow guns at official functions after last year's incident," he was saying. Hosea and Dutch handed over their holstered weapons, and Arthur turned to do the same.

My heart stopped and I glanced around nervously, wondering if I could get away with it or if it was worth the risk of keeping quiet. One of the gentlemen looked at me, raising a brow as he noticed my nervousness, and with an awkward cough I turned away from the group. I could feel their eyes on me as I – as discreetly as I could – lifted the hem of my skirt, gathered up my petticoats, and reached underneath to retrieve the revolver I had strapped to my thigh. I sheepishly handed it over, gaining a number of surprised looks.

"Well, a lady needs to be able to protect herself, don't you think?" I chuckled tensely, and eventually they all shrugged it off.

"I suppose that's rather sensible," someone said.

With that, we were ushered into the house. I fell into step beside Arthur, who was looking at me with an amused smile and lidded eyes. I flushed and chose not to say anything, feeling his hand go to the small of my back as we climbed the steps to the house.

Hosea, Bill and I broke off from Arthur and Dutch when they went to meet Signor Bronte. Arthur had explained before we left that he was the one who'd invited us here, and he just about ran part of the city. He was also the one who was holding Jack, but Dutch had sucked up to him enough that that wasn't a problem… apparently. I personally found it very odd, but it wasn't my place to say anything.

I headed into the party just as Dutch had instructed. I stepped out of the back door onto the veranda that looked out across the garden. I took a moment to familiarise myself with the place; there were people everywhere, all lavishly dressed of course. There was a gazebo with a band playing right in the middle of it all, a huge fountain further up ahead. The garden was split up with raised planters bursting with exotic looking foliage and flowers, between which were various paved areas where the guests converged, all around buffets and candle lit tables. Lights were strung up above, bathing the place in a low glow, bright enough so you could make your way around but dark enough to maintain a strangely intimate atmosphere.

I hadn't been to any balls before, but I had to say, the place looked impressive even to me.

I descended one of the sweeping staircases that curled around into the heart of the party, immediately being offered a glass of champagne by a gentleman holding a tray full of glasses. I gratefully took one, having a sip, my very first taste of champagne. I had to say, I wasn't all that impressed, though I drank it anyway to calm my nerves and give me a little more confidence.

Glancing around the place, I honestly didn't know where to start. Looking for leads; I knew my objective but once I was faced with the prospect of carrying it out, I almost regretted coming. Luckily, I needn't pluck up the courage to make the first move to anyone because a man approached me, casually sliding in beside me, nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre of some description.

"Good evening," he greeted me after finishing off the last bite. He was a tall, skinny man with a gaunt face and deep set eyes. Very pale skin dotted with freckles and bright orange hair slicked into a graceful sweep across his forehead. He was wearing a suit not dissimilar to the one Dutch was wearing… or any of the other men for that matter. There really was only so many ways to wear a suit, it seemed, rather boring compared to the variety in the women's gowns. There were some show-stoppers, for sure.

"Hello there," I replied, turning to face him.

"Pleasure, the name's Michael," he offered his hand to me and met it with my own, he gave my fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Jemima," I told him.

"Jemima," he repeated with a nod, "what a God-awful farce this is, don't you agree?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I just arrived. I haven't quite been here long enough to draw any conclusions," I laughed.

"Darn, I was hoping I'd find someone to stand and complain with. You know, I'm only here because my social climber wife was invited. Yes, she's rather friendly with that man who makes the ugly hats, what's-his-name," he looked to me for an answer and I could do no more than stare blankly at him, "Wasp. What an awful name."

"Never met the feller," I shrugged, clearing my throat and scanning the place for an excuse to escape.

"Well I assure you he practically owes his living to me, with the number of hats my wife owns. You'd think she wanted to open up her own shop. And the size of some of them, I'll have to buy a second home just to keep the damn things," he tutted, shaking his head. "Anyway, she fits right in here, but I just can't stand these sorts of things."

"I suppose it's not for everyone," I mused.

"Right, she was stood talking to that man over there for twenty minutes when I left her to it. Some nonsense about art, he's a dealer or something, was trying to sell her some crap from Italy that I'll end up paying for, no doubt," he grumbled, gesturing to a gentleman now standing alone, picking at the buffet.

I watched him for a moment, thinking.

"That woman'll be my ruin, I'm sure of it, bleed me dry," Michael said under his breath, and I looked at him with raised brows. He caught my eye and sighed, "sorry, I've been hitting the champagne hard since we got here, I've said enough. I'll leave you to it. Have a pleasant evening," he said monotonously, then skulked off.

I noticed Arthur pouring champagne for a group of ladies nearby and smiled, then wandered over there. He grinned when he saw me, and topped up my glass.

"Thank you, sir," I said, and he shook his head in amusement.

"What did Dutch say about distracting the fellers?" He teased me.

"I'm distracting you? Why I'm just saying hello," I nudged him, sipping my drink. "How is Mr. Bronte?"

"He's…" he began, trailing off as he struggled to sum the man up, "well, I'm just glad you haven't had to meet him."

"Oh, that bad?"

He made a humming sound. "Who was your new friend?" He gestured in the vague direction of Michael. I laughed and shook my head.

"An unhappily married complainer, was about my take away from the conversation," I told him, "but, he gave me an idea, so it wasn't all bad."

"Yeah?" He looked at me, intrigued.

"Yeah," I smiled, "what about you?"

"Well, I need to speak to the mayor," he said, nodding over towards the fountain where a group of men were standing, one of them must've been him, though I couldn't tell you which one.

"Oh! I'll leave you to it, then," I rubbed his upper arm, pausing to feel the muscle there when it captured my attention, before turning to leave. Arthur caught my arm before I could walk away.

"You look incredible. Just thought I should tell you that," he said under his breath.

A smile burst across my face, "thank you, sweetheart."

Arthur smiled at the nickname, sliding his hand down to squeeze mine, his eyes turning soft and warm and lovely. Before I could get carried away, he let me go, and we each went our separate ways so we could get on with our jobs. I walked towards the man Michael had pointed out to me as an art dealer, flashing him a little smile and waiting for him to smile back before committing and closing the distance.

"Hi, lovely to meet you, Jemima Jones," I introduced myself, offering my hand and having him shake it.

"Leighton Pleasants," he said in an English accent, then glanced down at my attire, "what a lovely dress."

"Oh, thank you. It's brand new for the occasion, I couldn't resist spending a little money once I knew I'd be coming to the mayor's house," I giggled, and Leighton's smile widened, "speaking of, I heard you are a collector of artwork, or something along those lines?"

"Ah, yes, something like that. I have rather an impressive collection if I do say so, though a lot of the buying I do is for the purpose of passing it along to those who will treasure it. Do you have an interest in art?"

"I suppose you could say that. I enjoy filling my home with work that the guests can enjoy, I host a lot of parties, you see. I bought a painting on the recommendation of a dealer in Paris a few years back and ever since then I've been hooked. The looks on people's faces when I unveil a new piece!" I touched his arm and gave a happy sigh. "Truthfully, I know nothing about art, but my guests often do. I'm always on the lookout for new and exciting work."

"Oh, really? Well, in that case I believe I might be your new best friend."

"Or I may become yours," I flashed him a mischievous grin and watched as he chortled.

"Well, I have a new shipment of artwork coming in from Italy, due next week. It's certainly new and exciting, it's by this up and coming artist–"

"Oh, save the sales pitch until I'm seeing the work," I cut him off, "how do you do business, Mr. Pleasants? Do you have a gallery nearby?"

"Actually, I tend to hand pick artwork for my clients and bring a selection to their home, let them display the work in their desired location to really give them a sense of what they're getting," he explained, making grand gestures with his hand at something in his imagination appearing right in front of us.

"Oh, well, that's certainly a personal service," I hummed, pursing my lips, "but I think I'd prefer to see everything you've got, especially this new shipment. Don't you have a gallery?"

"Well, I have a building that I keep all of the work in, though it's not so much a gallery as it is a warehouse," he admitted, wearing a hesitant expression, "a private building in the city for security purposes, it's not a pretty place, but it is highly secure and the artwork is kept safe and pristine for potential buyers."

"Oh, I don't mind what the building looks like, just the art. Perhaps you'd allow me to visit? Just give me a time and the place and I won't be any trouble, I'd just like to have a look," I bargained, but he didn't look enthusiastic, he frowned and chewed on his lip.

"I'm afraid I can't, the building is very secure and there is a lot of money's worth of art there, it's not that I believe you're untrustworthy, I just cannot bring clients there. It's more my partner's rule than my own, you understand, don't you?" He apologised, and I let out a sigh, pouting glumly.

"Fine, I get it. Can't be too careful, I suppose. Well, what if you do what you normally do and bring me some paintings to look at? If you don't mind, I'd rather view them at a hotel, so my husband doesn't find out I'm spending all our money again," I laughed, and he visibly relaxed.

"I suppose I can manage that," he nodded, smiling at me, eager to keep me keen, "what sort of art are you after?"

"How about you bring me that Italian work? I'm not too picky, if it's new and popular, I'm all for it," I suggested.

"Well, in that case, I think you'll be very pleased."

"May I ask that you bring the work to the Saint's Hotel in Valentine? I know it's a bit of a ways away, but trust me, it's closer than my home," I chuckled.

"Valentine? That's no problem at all my dear. The paintings will be arriving in Saint Denis next Friday, so perhaps we could set the viewing up for Saturday morning?"

"Evening would be better for me, I think," I pondered. The roads would be quieter, I thought.

"Evening it shall be, then. Shall we say six o'clock, next Saturday, at the hotel in Valentine?"

"Absolutely!" I offered my hand to him again and he shook it.

"Wonderful!"

A moment later, a loud bang rang out across the sky. I was a moment away from ducking for cover, but I saw the burst of light in the air above us, a shower of colourful sparks, followed by many more. Fireworks!

"How beautiful," I breathed, mostly to myself.

The sky lit up with explosion after explosion, everyone stopped in their tracks and watched the display. Sounds of awe surrounded me as the crowd enjoyed the beauty going on overhead. Part of me wished that Arthur was standing next to me so we could enjoy them together, I wondered if he found them as pretty as I did.

It occurred to me then, as I enjoyed that small moment of peace where I didn't have to think of anything but the celebrations going on around me, that it was my birthday. I'd honestly forgotten. I smiled to myself, figuring that attending a fancy ball, never mind the purpose of doing so, had been a memorable experience for a birthday to say the least.

"I've never felt so awkward in all my life," Bill was grumbling once we were all back in the coach heading back to camp after the party. He carried on muttering about how awful the party was, much to my amusement. I kept quiet, though, only smiling to myself as to not rile him up further. I'd spotted him ambling about the place in his too short pants, wondering what to do with himself. He was a fish out of water in that place.

I realised Bill had stopped complaining when Arthur handed a piece of paper to Dutch, who's eyes seemed to light up at whatever it was. It seemed like we'd come away with a few decent leads; Hosea might've found a bank to rob, Dutch mentioned a trolley station and a poker game on a boat that could be of use. I waited until we were clear of the party to explain my findings, and Dutch didn't hesitate to ask me what I'd been doing as soon as there was a lull in the conversation on the way home.

"Did you find anything of interest, my dear?" He asked casually, he almost sounded as if he wasn't hopeful.

"I believe I did, if you have a couple men free next Saturday evening," I began, and Dutch raised his brows with intrigue.

"Oh?"

All four men looked at me interestedly.

"I got talking with this art dealer, I arranged to view some paintings. He's bringing them up from Saint Denis to Valentine, so my thinking was you fellers could intercept somewhere along the way and take them off his hands," I explained, looking between Hosea and Dutch in particular for approval, "preferably without putting a bullet in him," I added.

"Paintings?" Hosea repeated, then gestured to Arthur, "Seamus'd know what to do with those. You could take them to him."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully.

"I think they're worth a fair bit," I told them, and Dutch hummed.

"Not bad," he appraised, then glanced at Arthur, "could be one for you and Lenny. Maybe one more."

"Take John with you," Hosea suggested.

"Alright. Well done, I knew you'd make yourself useful," Arthur smiled at me, and my heart fluttered with pride.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #van der linde gang #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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formalmess · 5 years ago

Text

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Three

Summary: Peasley, fearing for Luigi, searches for answers.

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder

“Luigi?!"

He couldn’t feel anything.

“Luigi?!”

He twitched slightly, trying to regain some sense. Everything around him felt muffled.

“Please wake up!"

He was being shaken awake.

“I’m right here, Luigi, I’m right here! It’s okay, please open your eyes…!”

He felt warm arms wrapped around him. He shifted, clutching onto whoever was hugging him, trembling fingers weakly clawing into fabric.

“Luigi…?!”

He murmured something inaudible.

“Luigi! You’re awake!”

“I’m… awake…”

“Don’t push yourself, darling…! It’s okay, I’m here…”

Luigi moved limply, feeling an incredible weight on his entire body, limbs heavy. He tried to speak, but all that came out were broken mumbles and croaks.

He was hugged tighter.

”I’m so, so sorry… I didn’t mean to stay out for so long... I knew I should have come home sooner, I know, and I'm sorry... and I… P-Peach, she... after the meeting, she was so distraught over something and, she had me and a few others help look for her citizens who were missing… and… we must have been out longer than I anticipated, oh, I'm so sorry...!”

Luigi froze, his breath hitching.

“Luigi? Are you alright?”

“It was r-real…”

“What?”

Luigi looked up at Peasley’s face, who was still cuddling him close. Peasley had a concerned expression on his face, questioning Luigi repeatedly about what he meant, but Luigi didn’t respond. His head rolled to the side, examining the environment around him. They were still in the living room.

Luigi shakily pointed to the television, which now showed nothing more than static.

“Did... d-did you watch a scary movie while I was gone? You know you should watch those with me if you really want to…!”

“Tape… box… v-video…”

”What are you talking about?"

All the haunting images came flooding back at once. Luigi felt consciousness threatening to fade as he recalled Toad’s screams for help, the blood… the terrible, horrible laughter…

”T-Toad…”

“Toad? That’s...” Peasley cocked his head to the side, a bit confused. “...That’s the name of the person we were looking for... And his sister, as well… Toadette, was it?”

Without warning, Luigi released a pained sob, burying his face into Peasley’s shoulder.

“Luigi? What’s wrong?”

“Dh... d-dead… Toad… dead…”

“What?! What are you talking about? Luigi, please, I want to understand-!"

”Th… The tape…”

”Luigi, please, calm down, you’re frightening me… if this is a panic attack, I’m right here, Luigi, I’m not going to leave you, I promise, I’m right here-“

“TOAD IS DEAD!” Luigi shrieked, pointing to the television feverishly. He dissolved into harsh, guttural sobs, Peasley shushing him.

”It’s okay, it’s okay… I promise…”

Peasley moved to turn off the television, since it seemed to be causing Luigi so much distress. He didn’t exactly know what was going on, but he assumed it had something to do with the built-up stress from the past week.

Luigi was still repeating the fact that Toad was dead, mumbling the mantra incoherently to himself.

The prince sighed, helping Luigi up to his feet. He escorted the brunette out of the room, Polterpup barking at the pair as they went upstairs, Peasley whispering soothing words of comfort to his husband. “Luigi… It’s okay… I promise you… It’s going to be okay…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It had taken hours for Luigi to calm down.

The two had retired to their bedroom, Luigi having lied down on the bed, trying to get comfortable. He wanted to sleep and be at peace for awhile, but his efforts proved useless. Peasley sat by him the entire night, all throughout Luigi’s whimpers and panicked murmurs, trying to calm him down and soothe his worries.

At one point, Peasley had put a cold cloth on Luigi's head, thinking maybe this could all be a fever-induced delirium. He didn’t show signs of illness, but Peasley didn’t know how else to explain it.

Polterpup lied down beside his owner, Luigi petting the ghostly pup to distract himself as he whimpered and held back tears.

As every minute passed, Luigi began to tire himself out.

Peasley had been tidying up a few things around their bedroom when he heard Luigi go silent before snoring lightly, having finally fallen asleep. He smiled, delivering a small kiss to the resting brunette. He thought about following his lead and getting some sleep himself, but his attention was turned to figuring out exactly what had caused all this.

He crept downstairs quietly, entering the living room and turning the television back on. He certainly wasn’t going to be the first to admit how abysmal he was with handling technology, but he could comprehend it enough to know how to rewind the tape.

He kept his thumb pressed down upon the rewind button on the whirring machine until he heard a click, pushing the play button, albeit hesitantly.

It only took a few passing moments to realize what was wrong, and why Luigi had been so mortified.

Peasley had only seen Toad on a few occasions before, at kart races he spectated or get-togethers Peach planned, but seeing him here was gut-wrenching. He looked so scared.

And the person who was tormenting him was more horrific than he could’ve ever imagined. They weren’t like a horror movie villain, or a fairytale monster as he had pictured them previously in his mind.

They were real, and their enjoyment of the whole macabre situation made Peasley feel light-headed.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But, he didn’t stop watching. As much as his stomach twisted and his face paled, he knew he had to figure this out, for Luigi’s sake.

The tape showed off the mysterious attacker holding Toad’s head up high with one hand like a trophy, having just decapitated the poor boy's corpse. They scoffed before dropping the rest of his body to the floor casually.

”You weren’t much help for an assistant. I expected more from you.” The speaker’s words were distorted and slightly garbled, but still clear enough to just barely comprehend. ”You perished so quickly, like a candle extinguishing on an eager child’s birthday cake. It's no wonder that practically nobody noticed your disappearance. And rather unfortunate, I must admit.”

Peasley felt a peculiar sensation fill his chest as he watched, as though he’d heard this person’s words, or style of speaking, before somewhere. The way they talked... It seemed oddly familiar.

”The least you could do now is make for a nice decoration.” The figure raised the same blade from before. “You won’t be needing these…”

Without another word, they plunged the knife into the sockets of Toad’s eyes, carving the irises out with the sickening wet sounds of flesh tearing and sclera shredding. When they drew the knife back finally to put their work on display, all that was left on Toad’s face were empty remnants of eyeballs, a dark void left in their place on his skull.

Peasley squeezed his eyes shut, trying to mask his growing horror and urge to just turn off the tape and pretend this was all some nightmare. That is, until the murderer began speaking again.

”Pathetic.”

The killer released a grunt as they tossed the head offscreen like a broken toy, the sound of it hitting the ground with a thud and rolling away still audible.

”I do hope my next assistant will last a little while longer than you… Why, after all, she has been dying to see you... It’ll be a pleasure to reunite you two at long last.”

Peasley felt his chest tighten as the dark figure now turned and approached the camera, a wide disfigured smile planted on their face. And as they approached, Peasley could now make out some of their features despite the dark lighting.

Their face appeared… broken. As though bits and pieces of their skin was missing.

Though, oddly enough, half of their face looked almost split in color. It seemed fitting for a deranged killer to have such an awful makeup job, but the way their face looked was almost too natural. As though they had torn the face off a porcelain doll and attached it to their own.

They were wearing faded clothing, tattered garb draped around their neck by a broken clip that barely functioned. And though the tape recording quality was low, he could make out hints of yellow and violet plastered on the fabric.

As they absently played with the blood stained knife in front of the camera for a few moments, humming sweetly, Peasley could make out the outline of black leather gloves on their hands.

Peasley jumped when the murderer chuckled once more, still spinning the blade in their palms.

”You know who I am, don’t you? You may not want to accept it yet. And that’s perfectly fine.”

They paused for a moment.

”Death is a cruel thing, as you know. But I’ve learned to be a patient man. I have all the time in the world.”

There was the sound of paper crinkling from just off of the side of the camera’s view, the knife being set down.

”You see, I have so many more people to meet with. So many more tricks to put on display. So many more bows to take. And I won’t rest until everyone you love is dead at my hands, as I promised.”

The letter.

Peasley instantly knew how he'd recognized the style of speech now. The theatrical tone of voice. The delight. That was him. He’d sent it. He hadn't been lying at all.

He was deadly serious.

”Until next time...”

He looked up, staring straight at the camera lens with a crooked smile on his face, one glaring yellow eye visible in the static.

"Ciao~!"

Click.

The screen went black, leaving Peasley to stare at his own horrified reflection upon a layer of static.

Acting hastily and without thinking, he practically tore the tape out of the player, tearing the insides out and throwing the remaining broken cassette away. He turned off the television and backed away, shaking his head. He started back toward the stairs with hurried feet.

He never thought this could happen.

He never thought that someone out there could be this awful… to Luigi, of all people!

Luigi didn’t have enemies, except a few jerks who occasionally picked on him. He certainly didn't have enemies that were murderers, swearing vengeance on his very livelihood, threatening his friends and family!

Peasley truly didn’t know what to believe anymore.

He rushed back upstairs to ensure Luigi was still okay, and to his relief, nothing had changed since he went downstairs. Luigi was sound asleep, snugly cuddled up in the covers, holding the thick duvet close to his chest and breathing softly.

Peasley exhaled, shutting the door behind him. And though there was no present reason to, he locked it.

He sat down beside Luigi, gently running a hand through his husband's hair. Peasley's thoughts were clouded, still trying to figure everything out. He needed answers. And to get that, he needed some help from Luigi. Especially since the murderer seemed so sure that Luigi would know exactly who he was…

Luigi shifted gently, whimpering short phrases and whining in his sleep, his soft breaths increasing to panicked mumbles.

Peasley held onto his hand tightly, hoping the bad dream Luigi was facing would subside.

He didn’t want him to have to wake up into facing another nightmare.

#super mario bros #luigi #peasley #prince peasley #super paper mario #mario and luigi #luisley #toad #dimentio #tw gore #for your entertainment #my fics #writing #the plot thickens

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screensirenfic · 5 years ago

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Black Leather - Chapter 33

We all arrived at Joyce’s house around the same time; Jonathan rushing in first to place an unconscious Will on the couch, and I was beginning to wonder what exactly happened in that lab.

They were meant to be helping the kid; not hurting him, but something about staring at his limp body just lying there made me feel sick.

Maybe it was too much of a reminder of Sara.

I tried not to think of her too much; her cute little pigtails and bright blue eyes painful to picture, even now.

The memories of the hospital were worse; her pale sunken cheeks, her head void of hair; looking more like a Holocaust victim than the bouncing, smiling little girl she used to be.

That’s one of the reasons we’d been so eager for Eleven to grow her hair out; the short stubble still too close a trigger of long evenings in the hospital, faking smiles and holding back tears because she couldn’t know the truth.

Dad had been on the phone for the last half hour, yelling down the line at what I guessed was was army, though clearly not getting anywhere.

They didn’t believe him.

Fuck; who would?!

This shit was crazy and I was the one living it! It didn’t matter if you were a cop, or a scientist, or the fucking president himself; nobody listened when you started with crazy talk.

“Hey.” Steve pulled me from my thoughts as he propped himself against the wall next to me.

Funny how he always seemed to know the right moment to cut in, just before I dragged myself too deep into my thoughts and risked drowning in them.

“Hey.” I replied; not really feeling up for conversation, but grateful for the distraction anyway.

“You feeling alright?” He asked; that soft concern in his voice overly familiar by now.

“Yeah; I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I tried to fake a smile, but it fell flat.

Probably didn’t matter anyway; Steve could always see through those.

“You seem a bit quiet...” Steve continued with his angle; turning his body so he could face me and look at me with those deep thoughtful brown eyes.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind...” I admitted with a harsh laugh, because it was true as of late. Between El and dad and Billy and now all this shit, my mind was fit to burst.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked; always to lend a sympathetic ear to me, no matter what the problem.

“I’d... rather not.” I brushed him off, though the slightly downtrodden look on his face hurt me more than it should.

He was only trying to help, and God knows I could really use someone to talk to about all this bullshit, but that couldn’t be Steve.

He was too close to the centre, and I couldn’t afford to get him hurt.

He meant too much to me for that to happen.

“Let’s just go wait with the kids...” I offered, pushing up from the wall and walking into the kitchen, because all the sullen faces in here were beginning to get to me.

———————————————

The kids were gathered at Joyce’s kitchen table, looking more like depressed pensioners, than what had previously been overexcited children.

It was almost sad; really. What had started out as one of their fantasy adventures made real, had turned into another grown up nightmare that they just wanted to wake up from.

The tallest kid; Mike, Nancy’s brother I think, got up from his seat, walking over to a cardboard box of what looked like junk.

“Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?” The kid asked as if it was common trivia, and not the total out-of-the-blue question it seemed to me.

“Really?” Lucas responded, taking his eyes off the kitchen table to watch Mike pick up a weird cube off the top of the box.

“He petitioned the school to start it and everything. And then he had a fundraiser for equipment.” Mike replied with newfound enthusiasm as he turned back towards us.

“Mr Clark learnt everything from him. Pretty awesome, right?”

The kids all nodded in halfhearted agreement, like me; clearly not on the same page as the lanky tween.

“We can’t let him die in vain.” Mike stated, launching into what I already knew through experience was a hero speech to rock the ages.

“Well; what do you wanna do Mike?” Dustin snapped; for once being the one to offer sense in all this.

“Alright; the Chief’s right on this. We can’t stop those Demodogs on our own.”

“Demodogs?” Max repeated, expressing the confusion we all shared.

“Demogorgon - - Dogs - - Demodogs. It’s like a compound. A play on words—“ Dustin clarified as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

“I mean; when it was just Dart, maybe…”

“But there’s an army now.” Supported Lucas, and I began to wonder when middle schoolers became such nihilists.

“Precisely.” Agreed Dustin; these two back to being best buds again.

“His army...” Mike stated; a dark sense of realisation crossing his face.

“What do you mean?” I asked, picking up that the tween leader just had one of those rare lightbulb moments.

“His army.” Mike repeated with weighted words, despite the confusion of the rest of the party.

“Maybe if we stopped him; we can stop his army too...” Mike suggested perhaps the simplest of solutions.

So simple; a child had actually come up with it.

So simple; it might actually work.

———————————————-

For two fully grown responsible adults, and four less easily defined teenagers to be following the plan of a bunch of thirteen year olds; we must be desperate.

I mean; it wasn’t like it was a bad plan. We use Will to get to the Mind Flamer... Flayer... thing. If I thought of it in a military sense; it was actually half decent.

A round of interrogation with a good helping of good cop, bad cop; it all seemed pretty solid.

Dad had to work out the kinks, but for the first time tonight; I could breath a sigh of relief, because for once; the whole world was resting on somebody else’s shoulders.

We’d prepped the shed as a impromptu interrogation chamber; the small dark space surprisingly indistinct beneath a layer of newspaper and duck tape.

Of course; I wasn’t to sit in on the interrogation.

That privilege went to family and close friends; with the exception of my dad, because someone here had to know what they’re doing.

Instead I was sat in the house with Nancy, Steve and the kids, trying not to feel like sitting ducks whilst the looming threat of possible annihilation hung over us.

Steve was working on his baseball swing, sweeping his nailbat in wide arcs as if fending off some invisible enemy.

“You alright there? You look a little tense?” I asked; noticing the tight rise of his shoulders as he made each swing.

“I’ll feel better once I know those things are dead.” Steve replied without a hint of his usual humour, and if Steve was somber; we must really be in trouble.

“If he finds out where we are; will he send those things after us?” Max asked, sounding genuinely nervous for the first time tonight.

“He won’t find us.” Lucas assured her with far more conviction than he had any right to, and I was reminded why young love was so foolish; always making promises you can’t keep.

“Yeah; but if he does...” Max continued her train of thought; fear clouding her mind from all reassurances.

“Judgement day.” Lucas stated ominously, and I tried not to dwell on the truth in the statement, knowing all too well the odds we were up against here.

—————————————————-

Twenty minutes of thumb twiddling later; I was really starting to believe this whole plan had been a dud and it was time to start packing our bags and moving to Nebraska.

Then dad walked in with that steely look of determination in his eye, Joyce and Jonathan following close behind, and I knew they’d managed to crack the kid.

“What happened?” Dustin asked as dad snatched a sheet of paper off the wall, before taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“I think he’s talking. Just not with words.” Dad replied, scribbling a series of dots and dashes on the paper.

“Hey; what is that?” Steve asked; reaffirming he was the slowest in the group.

“Morse code.” We all stated, silencing him as my dad began to translate the code into English.

“H - E - R - E...” Dad stated as he wrote down each letter; the red crayon nearly bending with the force he held it with.

“Here.” Mike read; triggering a series of looks between Joyce and Jonathan.

“Will’s still in there. He’s talking to us.” Dad clarified; the meaning of that sentence finally striking home.

It worked!

The kids’ fucking shitpile of a plan worked!

And with it; we were gonna kill this monster for good this time.

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edmund-valks · 5 years ago

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What Lies Beneath... the Barn

“Wait, if you can think of that, why do you need me?”

Ilandreline brushed dark hair back from her sweat-slicked brow, carefully pouring molten metal into gear molds. “Because I can only do the calculations, not the actual magic. Also I would prefer to be able to validate it before I get my friends sucked into terrifying cosmic voids.”

She was really glad for this setup, even more glad that nobody seemed to notice she’d built a basement into the barn using a disintegrating arcanodrill while they’d been off engaging in weird things like “commerce”, whatever that meant. Not that she didn’t know what the word meant, but. Is my internal dialogue supposed to be this bad? No, it’s not. Maybe you’re not as smart as you hoped. Fair.

“Anyway,” she said aloud, setting the fresh gears to quench, “you’re the only one I know who even cares about my planar work, much less understands how to use it in this fashion. You already made it better, remember? That second letter of yours?” She spared a glance for the other elf, trying to gauge her reaction.

Perched on a corner of her workbench, the diminutive ren’dorei was… blushing? Either that or suffocating; her cheeks were flushed a soft violet rather than her whole face, so presumably it wasn’t asphyxiation. “Well, I mean, anyone could have if they-”

“If you finish that sentence I’m going to hit you with a wrench.”

She stopped so fast her teeth clacked.

The Fence Macabre’s resident -- whether they knew it or liked it -- engineer continued. “If anyone could do it, then I’m a fool for not having done it myself, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t just call me a fool. And second of all, no, they couldn’t have, so stop trying to downplay your work. You’re smart about this stuff and you’ve got a unique perspective. You’re a valuable colleague and I’d love for you to be a co-author when I publish this theory.”

More colour rushed to her cheeks, making Sentua look something like a blueberry. Poor thing! Whatever the ren’dorei had done to themselves, it had really screwed them out of any fashion choices they may have liked beforehand. Red and gold just… didn’t… with that complexion.

“I… would like to be published with you, thank you. Are you sure- Wait, of course you are, otherwise you wouldn’t have said it, right?” She took several deep breaths. “Sorry.”

Ila shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. You about studied up, ready to try out the first one?”

“Um. Let me take one more look at the diagram and re-check the math. Then I’ll go over the runes again.”

“Sure thing, take your time. I got a bunch of these brass bastards to make anyway.” Anyone from the Fence who wasn’t her was unlikely to have any idea why she was making multiple copies of something that was already built. That was probably for the best. Nobody else really seemed to appreciate the old grandfather clock the way she did.

While she worked, her visitor did exactly as she’d said she would, tracing the structure they’d slowly developed using extraplanar theoretics combined with several known nexus points. If they’d had access to a superior medium (who wasn’t also wholeheartedly opposed to their purpose), maybe they would have been able to determine if it was going to work without having to craft a prototype. But what would be the fun in that?

Well, it would certainly involve less child endangerment.

Hey! That’s not fair, she’s an adult!

...In human years, yes. How old is she? Twenty?

Twenty-three? Give or take a year.

This is wildly irresponsible parenting!

I’m not her parent!

Good point. It’s really irresponsible of them to let her hang out with someone like us.

No kidding! What are they thinking!

“Okay, I’m getting started now. Try to keep quiet and stay over there. I’m… not sure what this is going to look like when I get it going.”

That made two of them. Ilandreline very casually moved behind a thickly armoured panel she used in case one of her iron molds exploded. “Righto, let ‘er rip, Senny!”

Despite her youth, she sure looked like she knew what she was doing. Having grown up around an assortment of arcane manipulators (as well as normal manipulators), Ila could usually follow spellwork as it happened. She was utter rubbish at it herself, but that was why she’d done theoretical work. That way she never had to prove anything except on paper.

The interweaving runic designs began flaring to life, unexpectedly nightblue with pinpricks of starlight within them. A brief peek without her goggles in place confirmed that wasn’t a trick of the lenses, it was the Real Deal. Since she had no idea what it meant, if anything, the sin’dorei kept waiting and watching.

A subaural thrum filled the air, slowly building intensity. Sentua seemed unbothered, continuing to do… whatever a wizard did during a lengthy ritual. Concentrate or something. The vibration became more sensible until it started to feel like her teeth were going to rattle from her skull. Then it stopped and things got weird.

When your family was exiled due to a misunderstanding involving the regular sacrifice over centuries of sentient beings to dark powers, you grew up with a different baseline for weirdness from others. As a result, this wasn’t the weirdest thing Ila had ever seen, but it was certainly up there. She pulled her goggles off to see with the tainted vision that same “misunderstanding” had gifted her.

Portals were opening and clothing, like mouths made of eyes, evaporating as soon as they formed. A loop made of itself (what?) turned outside-in until they disappeared inside it. Eyes of darkness flared against the backdrop of interminable void within one of the gaping portal-maws and she felt uncomfortably seen. Maybe I messed up the math after all.

A crackle of power flared through the starlight rune-circles, drawing constellations like the antipodal counterpart of what she’d seen in drawings from Ulduar. This was a place she recognized, but not in a way she’d experienced it before. There was the old, familiar whisperings, comforting as ever, slipping over and through her being with their gentle rubberiness. The sensation of being watched, as always, and knowing what was heard wasn’t her own thoughts; just another day looking at what the authorities of Silvermoon had called “the wrong side of things” when they’d been exiled a couple hundred years back.

The ache in her jaw was new, though. And… getting worse. Something was affecting the pressure in the room. Maybe I should open the door up to the barn, help equalize it? Ilandreline tried to move but her body wouldn’t respond right. She tried to talk but nothing came out. The air felt like molasses, though, and it started to… ooze… into her open mouth in one of the more unpleasant sensations she’d ever encountered.

This is definitely bad, this is going to keep increasing until we pop like overfed ticks. It wasn’t a comforting thought. She’d die like she’d lived, though: making bad decisions with dangerously undertested experiments. Her jaw was being forced wider and wider, until it felt like it was going to pop out of its socket. Then something did pop and there was a roar like an entire storm’s worth of thunder if it was packed into a giant’s sneeze.

Wetness -- blood? Probably! -- trickled from her ears, but she could close her mouth again. She did so, gingerly, rubbing at it. “Faoh,” she mumbled, unable to make real words quite yet. Her brain didn’t want to form them, her mouth couldn’t. She blinked far too often for several minutes before recovering enough to replace the tinted lenses through which she typically viewed the world.

Sentua was still standing, looking… mostly normal. Maybe slightly dazed; half catatonic? No more than that, maybe only a quarter. But she was also grinning like the cat who’d eaten a smaller, weaker cat to gain its feline prowess.

“Ah wubna!” she said in triumph.

“Fwah?” was Ila’s response as she stuck her little finger into an ear, trying to pry loose the inability to understand. It came back covered in what was definitely blood, possibly with a little extra something she didn’t want to think about too closely.

The ren’dorei worked her jaw a bit, then tried again. “I did it!” The words formed right that time, managing to get through the sticky haze in Ila’s ears. “I don’t know if it worked, but it went off just like we expected it to.”

“Hleva nuhs!” Frowning, she slapped herself once, then a second time, harder. Wiggling her jaw from side to side, she formed the words very deliberately. “Ve...ry… nice.” Moving over to where the first pocket watch -- more staggered, really, as if she was quite drunk -- Ilandreline examined it. It looked right.

She turned it just so, opened a back panel to look into the mirrored surface there, checking behind her. And sure enough, just as she’d hoped, there was the leering grin of a lurking specter, axe poised and with a hungry look in its eyes. “Hey, fella! Good to see you again. We made you portable.” She laughed, gave a wink that the cursed entity could never see. “Look out, world! The Fence Macabre has portable curse detectors now!”

Her new partner came to look over her shoulder and practically jumped out of her skin. Sentua glanced hurriedly back to the real world then into the gleaming silvered expanse. “This… this is what you were trying to do?”

“Absolutely!”

“But… why?”

Ilandreline just stared for a moment. She didn’t understand why people kept asking that. It was clearly a great idea. “Because why wouldn’t you want to be able to see what kind of horrific spirits are lurking in an area? This is a much more portable form of the curse, one that can be replicated multiple times using the demiplanar transpositionalities we derived, augmented through a series of linking and magnifying matrices. So long as I keep at least half of the original gears in the grandfather clock, I can use the rest to create portable horror viewers!”

Sentua stared at her for rather a long time. It got awkward. Eventually she shrugged, though, which was probably for the best. “Well, as long as you’re happy and it works, I guess that’s good enough for me! I think I’m gonna go home and sleep, though, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, absolutely. Get your rest, that was probably pretty draining.” She grinned, squeezed the young elf in a one-armed hug. “And be proud! You did great.”

“Thanks! I… don’t know if replicating a curse into multiple other objects was what I thought I’d be doing, but at least it confirmed our theories.” She grinned weakly, then stumbled off to the designated teleportation corner, keying one of her completion-tokens to zap her back home.

Ilandreline kept turning the pocket watch over, chuckling. It didn’t tell time worth a damn, but she didn’t care about that. It had worked. And she was going to be published again for that work, damn it, preferably somewhere that would absolutely irritate her parents to no end.

Truly, she was living her best life, and it was all thanks to the Fence.

#Wow Rp #fence macabre #warcraft rp

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puttingfingerstokeys · 5 years ago

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[untitled]

Nanowrimo day 17 Featuring Dante from the Devil May Cry(tm) series, and Vergil Dark fantasy, horror, demon...shit? Devil May Cry, violence, hell stuff, implied nonconsensual stuff Unfinished and unedited

“Ya think we did the right thing, Verg’? Leavin’ the kid behind like that, I mean…” Dante wasn’t the kind of man who doubted himself often. His decisions were, in general, ironclad. At the very least, he was an individual of particularly steely character and was more than content to live with his mistakes. He was even content to live with others’ mistakes.

“Yes,” came the short, sharp response. To Vergil, there was no other option. Hell was not a place for a young man with a family. He did not know the girl, but he understood that Nero was very fond of her. Leaving Kyrie behind would have devastated her. Humans are fragile creatures, he mused coldly, forgetting conveniently, at least for the moment, the he was half human himself. It was easy to forget that here in this dark place of discordant energy.

It was a plane of lightless eternity, stretching out in all directions. Walking one way often yielded other terrain, but nothing remotely resembling something alive. Pools of blood stood stagnant where a puddle might have been in the human world. Blood rained from the sky above, which looked at times like the vaulted ceiling of a massive cave and other times resembled a vast expanse of void.

As lonely as it was, they were always being watched. Once the Qliphoth had been destroyed, the demonic attacks had all but subsided and the brothers found themselves hunting the beasts for sport. They ran at the very sound of the twins’ voices. It was becoming monotonous.

“Just ‘yes’? No monologue?”

“Did you want one?” Vergil’s patience was perpetually wearing thin. Dante knew this damn well and prodded every chance he got. He loved getting a rise out of Vergil, seeing the color appear on sharp cheekbones and the set of his handsome jaw. It meant the guy was alive and that he could feel. That he had always been able to did not escape Dante; it was not for himself that he did this. Vergil needed to know and remember that he, too, was a half-breed, more than capable of feeling loss and love and everything that came with being a living, breathing being.

Despite what he had done, Dante had long since forgiven him, regardless of whether or not the man had asked. Dante knew he never would and so was not waiting for it. He had simply resolved in his mind to let it all go, to toss it aside like so much chaff that simply did not matter in the grand grinding wheel of their lives. He was just glad to be with Vergil.

“Okay fine,” Dante conceded, shrugging and lifting his arms to arch his back and stretch as they walked the lonely, empty plains of the demon world.

The ease of his concession had Vergil on edge almost instantly. Dante never gave up like that. There had to be something more to it. He was always playing games. Each movement was part of an elaborate dance step that only Dante himself seemed to know and he was not sharing. Vergil never would have admitted to anyone but himself (and even that admission was skeletal) that his brother had always enraptured and fascinated him.

“You’re giving up…?” Vergil was poking the hornet’s nest now, but his own incessant curiosity would not allow him to leave well enough alone. They were alike in this, yet another fact he would never admit to anyone, and it chafed him something fierce. That he could not control it only served to further irk Vergil.

“Yup,” responded Dante, popping the final letter for extra emphasis. “You clearly don’t wanna elaborate, so who am I to prod?”

You always prod! Vergil’s mind screamed. Through sheer force of his not inconsiderably willpower, Vergil managed not to say a word and grunted instead, nodding minutely as if utterly uninterested in Dante’s lack of interest. This, too, was part of the game. How long could each brother hold out? Who would emerge victorious? Everything was a contest between the two of them. Everything.

Overhead, the “sky” or whatever it was, rumbled with a hollow, metallic sort of intonation. The blood rain was incoming. Vergil disliked the feeling of it on his skin and clothes and immediately scanned the area with a practiced eye for some clue to the direction of a cave or even a feeble outcropping underneath which they could take shelter. A tug on his elbow alerted him that Dante had caught sight of such a place and indeed, when Vergil turned his attention, Dante was already jogging that way.

The rumble resounded again, sounding more like a growl than any kind of storm. Vergil ducked into the cave opening just as the first red, stinking droplets began to fall. He grimaced and crouched near the entrance, watching it fall across the seemingly uninhabited landscape. This was nothing like he remembered it, but then, maybe it was because he was with Dante. The demon world had a tendency to shift, depending on the mental state (and physical state) of its occupants. Perhaps he was seeing this version because he was not actually dead. The theories were endless, but right now, he had neither the desire nor the equipment to test them. Instead of bothering with it, therefore, Vergil settled back, propping Yamato on his shoulder and turning his attention to Dante, who was similarly enraptured with the strange scenery.

The cave itself was supremely dark, though not terribly deep. Given the demons’ fear of them, it was unlikely to be occupied. That was all the better for anything that might have wanted to live here, because Dante and Vergil would have made quick work of it.

“Last time I was here, it was a whole lot hotter,” Dante said, as if speaking only to himself. Vergil’s brow rose.

“You were here?”

“Well, if here is the demon world or whatever… and if it’s the same one every time, though I’m really kinda startin’ to doubt that right about now…. Then yeah, I was. It was probably twenty years ago, though.”

Vergil wondered how someone like Dante ended up here. They had made war upon each other in a nexus-like half-plane, essentially within the hellgate bridge created by the Temen-ni-Gru around thirty years prior. Between then and now, Vergil had spent all of his time here, save the last month or so. He, therefore, should have been the authority on the demon world and its denizens and manifestations. He was not.

“I barely remember it, honestly,” Dante added after a moment, in a tone that suggested not only did he remember it vividly, but it plagued him whenever he closed his eyes, haunted his nightmares, and infected his waking world when he wasn’t otherwise occupied. Vergil did not press. He was the last person to judge based on that.

“You followed something in, I’ll assume,” Vergil supplied. This coaxing manner was rather in the same vein as Dante’s prodding. It had a similar result, in general, anyway. When he saw Dante nod, he knew he had struck some kind of chord. “A demon, or…”

“I don’t know what it was, Vergil,” the response was sharp, harder than Dante had intended and he withdrew a moment with a mumbled few words that sounded like “it doesn’t matter”. Vergil laughed through his nose, the sound muted by the rain outside. Nothing Dante had experienced in this horrid place could have possibly held a candle to the torments Vergil had suffered. That was a matter of time spent here, rather than opinion. But Vergil was not about to play pain olympics with something that clearly distressed his brother. Any other time, he might have mocked and jeered, in his way, but right now, that felt… wrong.

“You’ve gone willingly into the demon world twice,” Vergil pointed out. The Temen-ni-Gru had not been fully submerged, as it were, and whatever Dante had found during his battle with Mundus had been similarly positioned, a sort of Hell Lite. Mundus had been trying to push through, in all fairness, so Dante had not been forced to immerse himself. That was fortunate, because the area where the demon king Mundus held court was far worse than wherever the Qliphoth’s branches had been positioned. This place was a paradise, all things considered.

“So have you,” Dante pointed out, his tone softening from the defensive, choked timbre it had taken on when Vergil tried coaxing a story or two out of him. That he was so reticent to share said all that was needed on the subject of how much it had affected him. Dante’s fearless, indomitable spirit had shone through just about everything life had thrown at him. Clearly this was just a step farther than he was able to push himself. Everyone has their limits, Vergil reasoned, I guess he does, too.

It was a strange thought, considering his insufferable twin was… well, insufferable, incorrigible, and constantly ready, willing, and able to dog Vergil’s every movement. He guessed that, in a way, he had invited this attention upon himself, given his propensity for causing havoc, not least of which had been his mad grab for power, planting the Qliphoth and siccing it on a city full of strangers. He did not think of them as innocents, however; even now, they were merely faceless nobodies. Dante would not change his mind on that, either.

Point of fact, it had been finding out he had a son which had called a halt upon his machinations. Vergil had suspected nothing. It had been V, whose humanity had shown him the life that Dante had built and the impact he was having on the world, carrying on Sparda’s legacy of protection for the humans, who had planted that seed of doubt and hesitance in his heart. Dante had driven the final nail into that particular coffin by telling Vergil who Nero really was.

“You really get around,” Dante jested, chuckling and watching the blood rain fall outside. It was forming puddles already, sticky, coagulated things which stunk something fierce. He thought he would become accustomed to the smell eventually, but he never did. Blood stank, plain and simple.

“Did I?” Vergil’s tone warned Dante not to push, that he knew what the man was doing. Dante figured it was tit for tat and if Vergil was going to tease at his time in the demon world, it was only fair he should do the same of Vergil’s most sensitive subject. Of course, it was really only a guess which led Dante to conclude that this was such a sore spot, but if he knew Vergil at all (and he absolutely did) he was about to hit the proverbial nail on the head… repeatedly.

“Sure,” Dante reasoned casually. “I mean sometime between playing Gilver and stuffing a giant tower in the middle of my city, right?”

He was referring, of course, to Vergil’s time on Fortuna which had somehow produced Nero. Dante was curious about this, as he suspected, was Nero. The kid, however, had not had time to ask his father about it and Dante suspected that, rough as Nero was, he was too tactful and maybe a little too stubborn to simply bring it up.

“I acquired knowledge of the occult and the book which Arkham carried that detailed the formulae and necessary items to raise Temen-ni-Gru,” said Vergil, his voice taking on a clinical coldness. He was shutting down, Dante could sense that much. He reached out and patted his brother’s thigh from his position across the small cave.

“Hey, dude, relax… Like I said, we were all young, once, right?” This, he meant with sincerity, his way of raising a white flag. Curiosity was pushing at him, but his adoration for Vergil was winning out. Dante was simply glad to have the man back after all these years. When it did come to blows, he wanted it to be for a better reason.

Vergil’s gaze was sharp for a moment before he closed his eyes and turned his head to face the cave entrance. Hollow thunder resounded overhead and the world flashed with whatever passed for lightning in the realm of demons. Only when his sight was completely diverted did he open his eyes, a faraway look in them Dante could not see, but which might have broken his heart.

“I don’t remember it.”

“You don’t… what?” Suddenly, the hand on Vergil’s thigh was tight. Dante’s mind had immediately leapt to the worst set of circumstances. He released his grasp only when Vergil’s gaze returned to him and he finally saw that look of melancholy. Dante drew back and crossed his arms, as if to protect himself.

“Did I stutter?”

“No, but… Listen I…” There was a prime opportunity for a reference to Vergil’s lack of alcohol tolerance, but Dante wasn’t even going to attempt that. It felt wrong. One accidental drunk night did not sound like Vergil.

“There are gaps,” he said, “in my mind… things that weren’t convenient for me to know. Mundus removed them.” The delivery was simple, and all the worse for that simplicity. Vergil did not dress anything up, did not elaborate. He merely stated fact. “Our childhood has been… edited. I assume whatever happened on Fortuna was, as well, because there was no… woman.”

#CC #CW #Devil May Cry #Dante #Vergil #the idea was to continue into vergil explaining how Nero happened #might continue this one somemplace

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cartierswift · 6 years ago

Text

—invisible (lrh)

* for sophie *

—

you didn’t understand. everything was fine. more than fine, actually. things were perfect. you met luke when you were just 16. he was 17 and travelling the world with his best friends and you were just a junior in high school. it was a cool day in amsterdam. the leaves were changing colours, and you were sitting on a park bench absolutely clueless that you were about to meet the love of your life. luke, trying to avoid the pestering paps managed to get away for a few minutes and catch his breath on the same bench. instantly, he noticed the way your brown hair caught lighter in the sun and darker under the shade of the tree, he caught notice of the way your lips turned up after every lyric ended, but mostly it was your voice. the way you sang as if you weren’t in the middle of a park, the way his chest tighten everytime you sang a word. he knew right then and there that it was you. you were the one for him.

“pretty chilly here isn’t it?” he said, looking over to see if he caught your attention. you did a double take around the area, confused as to why someone was disturbing your alone time. the moment your brown eyes caught his blue ones, you melted. you were at a lost for words. his golden blonde locks were messy with last nights slumber and his plump lips were glistening. you were a sucker for lip rings.

“i guess. you get used to it eventually” you smiled back.

“is that so? i guess i’ll need to come by more often.” his eyes never leaving yours.

“i guess so.” you didn’t know why, but you were nervous. you wanted to make a good impression on this boy. you wanted him to remember you.

“maybe i can get your number? you know. so i can have a reason to come back.” he said a bit quieter. you nodded and typed your number into his phone refusing to give in to your nerves. after you were done, you couldn’t help but give him a big smile. you were proud you were able to attract someone good looking and you knew that this was going to be something special.

“i’m luke.”

“sophie.”

—

after that, everything else just fell into place. you and luke stayed together through everything. scandals, hate, tours, and everything else in between. you graduated and moved to LA to be with him. you couldn’t imagine your life without him. everything was perfect. the days consisted of football games on the TV, painting and then repainting the bedroom walls, helping luke write music, basically doing everything together. you went on tour with him, you got along great with the boys. nothing could ruin what you guys have together. some people say that if it’s meant to be, nothing can make them leave. and you agreed there was no force in the world that could take luke from you or you from him.

however, something in 2017 changed. the once happy relationship you guys held was crumbling. luke was snapping faster than usual, you were left in bed every night with an empty space holding on to your pillow to try and fill the void he left you with. your dreams filled with all the happy moments. the beautiful colours of your relationship were fading to grey and luke simply didn’t care. after every fight, he turned his back and walked away. you wouldn’t let it go though. you gave up everything to be with luke, you sacrificed a huge writing career to live in LA, your parents didn’t understand and you had left amsterdam with nasty words in your heart for them, your friends were limited to the boys and their girlfriends and a few from back home that didn’t understand what you and luke had. you had given up so much and you were not going to let it go to waste. your love with luke was special and you knew it. something else was going on behind the scenes.

then it got even worse. luke wouldn’t even leave his bed. his once happy self had completely diminished, he began to push you and the boys away. at this point you knew that something was wrong and it wasn’t your relationship. you called luke’s mom and she had told you the hard truth that luke had tried his best to hide from you. when luke was 12 he was diagnosed with clinical depression. the gene had run in the family and luke had inherited it. there was no explanation as to why. sometimes he just got sad and he needed space. it was all about patience liz had told you. so you listened. you held onto luke at night, you would kiss his shoulder and you would mumble an “i love you” or an “i’m always here baby”. and he would whisper the same words back. you thought things would get better after some time but three days later and things were still the same. luke refused to eat or interact with anybody. the boys would come over but they wouldn’t get anything out of luke. even the fans noticed that luke wasn’t the same, he went online even less and would rarely stop to take pictures when fans caught the rare glimpse of him outside. everybody was worried and what was even worse is that they were blaming you. most of them said you were probably abusive, others said that luke had become miserable in your “pr relationship” none of it was true and it only hurt luke even more that he couldn’t find it in him to defend you because he feared the fans finding out about his depression.

days turned into weeks and at this point you were begging luke to go back to his therapist, but he refused. he said these things happened all the time to him. but you knew it was more than that. things like this happened but not to this extent. you knew he needed help. you decided to take matters into his own hands and told luke you were going to go out and grab some lunch with calum. something regular as you two were very close. luke didn’t mind, but as you said your byes he held you just a bit longer than usual and his kissed lingered a bit more. you figured it was him just trying to reassure you that he was fine. you told him you love him and then made your way to the cafè to meet with calum. when you got there, you told calum everything. how hard it has been on him, but you even cried and told him how hard it has been on you. that you didn’t understand, that luke was everything to you, that you wanted to help but that you didn’t want to pressure him. calum comforted you and soaked in every word. luke was his best friend and he felt this just as hard as you did. so after 2 hours of discussion you and calum had come up with a plan to bring a therapist to luke next week. it was all you guys could truly think about. you bid your farewells and you promised you would text him when you arrived safely.

when you go to your door, something didn’t feel right. you opened the door to your home and immediately knew something was wrong. you called for luke but there was no answer. now you knew for sure that something had gone wrong, luke always responded to your arrival. it was the one thing you held onto everyday. your rushed to the bathroom door and you burst in, not caring about what the situation behind could be. you wish you hadn’t. you wish you had opened with a bit more caution. right infront of your eyes was like, but it wasn’t luke. all you could see was his body on the floor and the a container of pills clutched in his palm. you fell to your knees, shaking him with one half while you dialled 911. you could only pray that you weren’t too late. in his other hand you found a few notes. the first page read:

“sing this when the time is right. i love you sophie.”

you flipped to the next page and it was a song written by luke, you can tell by his handwriting right away that it was recent, his letters having a little bit of a tremble to them. on the top of the page the title was louder than any other word on the sheet: Invisible.

—

the time had come. a sea of black before your eyes. hundreds of people had filled the church, and there were more waiting outside. it had been weeks since the incident, but you still didn’t understand. how the love your life just slipped between your fingers? how he thought he was alone? the boys tried to comfort you in any way that they could. but they knew nothing would ever fill the emptiness luke had left you with. most days you couldn’t get up from bed, most of the time it was ashton who was shoving food down your throat. most nights calum had to sleep in the guest room because the nightmares had become too much to handle by yourself. and it was michael who had checked you into the hospital when you broke down, and lost all the air in your lungs while you begged god for the love of you life back. the doctors said it was trauma, you walked in on your boyfriend dead. others say it’s for attention. but you knew what it was: devastation. luke had only managed to pass his sorrow to you and thousands of others. as people went up one by one and said their words about luke, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. you were holding onto calum as your sobs shook your entire body. you couldn’t go up there anymore. you couldn’t save luke, it was the boys who deserved to sing his song. his final words to everyone.

but the boys knew what luke wanted. he wanted it to be you. he wanted you to be the one to sing his explanation. the song was written for your voice and nobody else’s. so when it was your turn and when everybody’s wet eyes turned to you, you swallowed your sadness and told the crowd everything. how you and luke met. how he gave you this feeling of electricity. how even on your saddest days he found beauty. how you still can’t find it in you to believe that he’s gone. you still think this is all some sick joke. you told them what his note said. that he claimed he was gone along time ago. that most nights even though you held onto him, it was still him and his shadow and everything he did or said that he regretted. that he didn’t know who he was anymore. he just knew he didn’t want to be here anymore. that he was sorry and that he knows he’s loved. but what he also knows is a type of sadness that he can’t find words for, all he can really say is it’s the time that grabs onto your chest and makes you feel things you don’t ever want your worst enemy to feel. he wants the band to keep going. he knows they won’t but he wants them to give the fans everything in them. most of all, he wanted to let everyone know that the fans were his anchor. he’s sorry he disappeared but they never left his mind and they will never leave his heart. he hopes that nobody ever feels the way he did. he writes about love and tragedy and that once you find something you love, don’t let anyone take it away from you ever. he writes about the love of his life and how you would take the pain away and put it on your shoulders. he wants to tell everyone they now officially have a guardian angel.

“and in luke’s final wishes,” you take a deep breath. this is for luke. this is for luke. this is for luke. your eyes catch the band, a reassuring smile on their faces. “he’s asked that i perform his final piece of art.” you look up to the ceiling, you know he’s sitting on a cloud with his tongue out teasing you about being nervous. “come on sophie, don’t be nervous loser.” he would tease if he could.

“ladies and gentlemen, this song is called: Invisible”

#luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #michael clifford #ashton irwin #imagine #5sos #5sos preferences #5sos imagine #calum 5sos #luke 5sos #ashton 5sos #michael 5sos

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