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lnterjection · 4 years ago

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gods of red skies (of this world to comprise)

Based on @quaranmine‘s post “that meme where the FBI shows up at your house because you know too much except it’s DreamXD and Ranboo being the only person who knows what an end portal is,” but I make it angsty.

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“And here’s our table,” Phil said, and Ranboo’s jaw dropped in such standard enderman fashion he would have been ashamed, if he weren’t so preoccupied with the sight in front of him.

Slowly, he took a step forward. Leaned over and traced a finger across the pale, bumpy endstone, its tiny craters and rivers of raised ridges. It had been so long since he felt endstone beneath his skin.

The empty sockets stare back into him, deep cyans and swirls of black. You’re here, they seem to whisper. We’ve missed you.

“It’s a cool table, but I think this is a bit of an overreaction,” he heard Techno whisper behind him. “Phil, what do we - uh...”

“Do you - do you know what that is?” Ranboo asked. He struggled to keep the awe from his voice.

Phil glanced over his shoulders with a bewildered expression. “No?” he said, wings slowly fanning out. “What do you mean?”

“It’s-” Ranboo hesitated, taking a step back. Should he tell them? Should - should anyone in this cursed world have that sort of power? Wouldn’t that lead to more sides, more pointless statuses of power to fight over?

He made a split second decision.

“Um, nevermind,” he said. “I forgot.”

The lie came so easily. Ranboo internally winced at how familiar his muscles were with the phrase.

Techno eyes him, pupils narrowing, but he doesn’t comment. Phil gives them both a cheery smile and claps his hands in a neat, smooth motion, effectively shutting down the line of conversation.

“So!” he said. “Anarchy!”

Ranboo nodded along, tried not to be too weird (or well, weirder than he must already seem to them), and that was that.

Everything was freezing - his crystalized bed that felt more like ice than wool, his creaking, ramshackle roof with scatterings of icicles that dripped frost and cold, the way every muscle of his body felt like it was contracting into a ball of sharp diamond.

Ranboo couldn’t complain, though. He had a place to live. He was welcome here, which was so much more than what he deserved after everything he’s done.

He wasn’t going to freeze to death. Worse case scenario, he takes his blanket and hides under his bed. He’ll be fine. Fine.

His chattering teeth and rapidly shivering body certainly seemed to disagree with him.

Ranboo tried to draw in a clattering breath. The winds picked up, slicing every exposed inch of skin with an unforgiving glacier.

At least it’s not snowing, he thought weakly.

And then, through the screeching winds and enveloping blindness of night, he heard it.

There’s something crunching, outside the fences that made up his home. Ranboo blinked slowly, wondering if he’s finally gone off the deep end. If that last tether to sanity which his mind so desperately clung to was finally slipping away, and this was the moment he succumbed to that relentless war of the mind, never to resurface again.

For a terrible, traitorous moment, Ranboo hoped that it was Phil or Techno, here to invite him into their house of warmth, a sign of friendship or at least care, after he’d been invited into their anarchist group (which wasn’t taking sides, they just didn’t want to be ruled, was that so bad?).

“Not much of a house, is it?”

And like an arrow to his heart, that hope was promptly smashed to pieces.

“Shut up” Ranboo gritted out to the figure that was no doubt leering over him with that stupid smily mask and stupid smug voice. “You’re just jealous you don’t even have one.”

His mind scrambled around desperately as he suppressed a terrified scream. Is this his mind again? But that voice doesn’t show up outside the panic room, or does it? What does he know, really?

Was this actually Dream, here to kill him? To take revenge on for destroying the community house? Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to drag his face away from the swath of blankets that he was clinging to, but he could hear the whine of the fence gates swinging. Something snapping shut in place.

Dream was definitely here, unless Ranboo had, indeed, well and truly lost it. Which was a likely possibility.

Dream, what was Dream doing all the way out here? And why now, of all times, did Ranboo decide to finally grow a spine?

Well, either he was hallucinating big time, or Dream was here to kill him. Either way, it’s not like anything he did will matter.

“I have a house,” Dream said, sounding mildly affronted. “Now, this pathetic excuse of a cattle pen certainly can’t be called one.”

“Just shut up and kill me already, Dream,” Ranboo yelled. His voice was muffled and thrown about by the wind, but it echoed through his bones nonetheless, and this was gratifying in some horrifying way because either way it’s not like what he’ll say will make any difference. “What, are you here to finally gloat over me too? Found a different target than Tommy, huh? Just can’t find a better use of your time than torturing teenagers-”

“What? Woah, I am not Dream,” Dream said, and Ranboo took a moment to process this information.

“What?”

He finally looks up, squinting through the darkness and the biting way the winds attacked his eyes.

The person that had his arms cross in front of him looked like a carbon copy of Dream, only with a pale blue hoodie instead of the usual lime green one.

“Just because you’ve put on a different outfit doesn’t mean you’ve changed who you are,” Ranboo snapped through chatters. “Fuck off or kill me, Dream. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“I told you, I’m not Dream,” was the reply. “Check your communicator.”

Ranboo, slowly, drew out the device and glanced at the pale, glowing screen.

DreamXD whispers to you: I’m here.

“Really reassuring,” Ranboo said.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the nice ones?” ‘DreamXD’ asked. “I thought you had manners, or something like that.”

“Since when have manners ever helped me?” Ranboo bites, suddenly feeling something sullen draw his stomach down. Bittering clung to every word. “It’s like nothing around here gets done without violence.”

“That’s not my problem.” DreamXD made some shrugging motion, slowly turning his shoulders in an unsteady fashion like he was just getting used to moving his body. “I’m just here to...”

Ranboo flinched as a glimmering stick appeared in DreamXD’s hand. He recognized the telltale sheen of glowing enchantments, but that shouldn't be possible because you can’t enchant sticks.

Dream, or DreamXD, or Not Dream, whatever the fuck he was - waved his glowing stick above him in what Ranboo assumed was supposed to be a menacing manner. He looked mostly like a deranged serial killer, which was, concerningly, also an apt description for the actual Dream.

“I need to make an alteration to your book,” he said. “Hand it over.”

Ranboo stared at him for a long, drawn moment. His mind was blank, unresponsive, why would he want the memory book-

And then, his memory book was in the other entity’s hands, and Ranboo began yelling again.

“Give it back!” He lunged forward, but DreamXD teleported to the side and slammed his fist down on Ranboo’s back. He hit a faceful of snow and dirt, and a pained whine escaped his throat as the heel of a boot dug into his neck.

Everything hurt. His back is now throbbing. Ranboo suppressed a sob as he heard the telltale sound of pages flapping wildly in the wind - and then the sound of ripping paper, grating against every bone of his body.

Again - no, this couldn’t be happening again, why is this happening again, he was so careful and he hadn’t done anything and surely he had been good this time, hadn’t he?

His mind only just seemed to process what was happening. His memory book - his memory - was being stolen, torn, violated yet again and this time Ranboo could do nothing but listen and cry into the cold, gritty dirt while his neck is on the verge of snapping and what did he do?

He just wanted peace. He just wanted to be loved - not even loved, to just be left alone. To live without constant fear of pain or death or someone destroying everything he held dear. Was that so much to ask for?

Yes, a part of his mind whispered. You blew up the community house. You betrayed L’Manberg. You didn’t even have the spine to tell Techno and Phil, your new allies, what the end portal is. They welcome you onto their land and group and you repay them with more hidden secrets? How else will you betray everyone?

Everything part of him was burning. Ranboo wanted to slice and strip off all his skin, to submerge himself in freezing cold water and close his eyes and not have to worry about any of this anymore and why did he want all of that so much-

“There we go,” the voice above him suddenly said, and Ranboo made a choked noise as something hard kicked deep into his side. He tumbled across the floor with a few soft crunches before going limp, body splayed at unnatural angles that twisted knots around all his muscles. His throat felt more parched than desert sands, scraped raw and bloody.

Something thudded in front of him, and Ranboo somehow had the strength to claw himself over through a filmy, blotched vision and drag his memory book back into his embrace. There were pages missing, ripped from the spine in jagged chunks like an unfinished puzzle shredded apart from frustration.

He choked again as a hand closed around his neck and dragged him up and something sharp and flaming jabbed into his chest.

A coarse sleeve muffled his wailing scream.

This pain was worse, so much worse, worse than the wither skulls and being dunked in water and all the stabs and slices he’s ever endured combined, his insides were burning and burning and on fire and covered in lava and Ranboo thought for a few fleeting moment that he would combust into sheer nothingness and he wanted to forget, forget why am I still here forget everything please I don’t want to be here-

“There we go,” the voice, that Dream voice, said, and it sounded so sickeningly like Dream but also not at all, because whereas Dream‘s voice always held a demeaning smugness about him this one had nothing but cold indifference, and Ranboo wasn’t sure which was worse but he couldn’t focus to think anyway because his entire world was red and white and burning and what the fuck was that stick enchanted with-

At some point, the pressure stopped. It faded away increments, and all Ranboo could comprehend was that eventually, as his mind flopped away from the shelter of nothingness, he was on the ground again and Dream was above him and everything was horribly, horribly silent.

Why, he wanted to scream again to the howling winds, but his throat was spent and dead and he couldn’t move or do anything except lie there and spasm erratically like a dying animal with its guts already pooling across the stiff, blue grass.

What did I do why is this happening please I’m so sorry I’m so sorry it’s all my fault please stop I don’t want to die-

“Let this be a warning,” the voice said in a smooth, terribly indifferent way. “If you write down what happened here, or about that end portal, I assure you that things will get much, much worse. And if you tell anyone, anyone else even a hint of what that portal is-”

Ranboo couldn’t even flinch as something cold pressed against his throat, as much as his mind leaped at the feeling.

“I guarantee you will never see the light of day again.”

Was this what it had all been about? The portal? That he was being punished for his origins after all, for having the - the knowledge itself? For having the power to utilize it, even if he never would?

“You really are Dream, aren’t you,” Ranboo rasped. He creaked his neck up to stare blankly into that pearly white mask. Every part of him, from his screaming body to his scattered, twisting thoughts felt weighted with magma, smoldering in its own ruins.

Dream shrugged, a bit faster this time, and disappeared in a shower of flaking purple particles that drifted around like the snow that had, during some part of all this, began to fall.

His eyes stung. His entire face was covered in tears, sharp daggers flicking the skin across with every movement. Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to care. He cradled his cold, crumpled memory book to his chest and knew that, as much as he hoped it was, this was not just a nightmare. Not in a world like this.

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Read on Ao3 here.

#ranboo #dream #dream smp #dreamxd #technoblade #philza #dream smp fanfiction #fanfiction #dsmp #dsmp lore #minecraft #mcyt #interject fanfic

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star-spangledstud · 5 years ago

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Better Than Me (2/2)

Part one is here!

Summary: You really are better than them.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)Reader.

Word Count: 3000-ish.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

It was ridiculous. So ridiculous that it bordered near downright insane. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. Impractical, stupid and completely, utterly ridiculous. Beautiful, sparkly and downright amazing, but ridiculous. You fucking loved it.

The baby pink, bejeweled handgun sat inside a pink velvet box on your lap. The bow, which was also pink, of course, was lying at your feet, which were clad in bedazzled silver Louboutins. Gems of all colors on the rainbow covered it on all sides, from the barrel to the handgrip and along the safety pin.

You gazed up at Tony, who wore an amused expression on his face, before glancing over at Pepper. She had her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, clearly horrified by Tony’s gift choice. The card read that it was from both of them. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“Happy birthday, kid.” He said with a smirk that nearly extended from ear to ear.

“I don’t even want to know how much you spent on that,” Pepper muttered, shaking her head while you took the thing out of the pink and white polka-dotted tissue paper.

The others sighed audibly when you smiled, annoyed that Tony’s gift overshadowed theirs yet again. To be fair, they’d all expected it, but all of them secretly hoped any one of their gifts would be your favorite.

“I love it,” you said, twirling the weapon around in your hand, “and I agree with Pepper, I can’t even imagine how much you spent on this thing...”

“You’ll make it work,” he mused, “Two million dollars, by the way, and you could just thank me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment, you were sure Pepper was going to faint. Natasha shook her head, watching the scene unfold in horror. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Wanda, who seemed to share none of her feelings, had created a monster out of you.

“Thanks, Tony,” you blew him a kiss, unable to get up from your seat at the dinner table that was covered in white roses in silver vases and wine that came from expensive bottles.

“It’s very pretty,” the witch said, “Can I hold it?”

“Please,” you shoved it into her hands, “by all means.”

“You’re insane, Tony,” you said as you took the gift Bruce had gotten for you from his outstretched hands with a smile, “Absolutely fucking nuts, but I love you for it.”

Your eyes went around the room, finding Steve at the end of the table of which you sat at the head. You were the birthday girl, after all, the pink satin sash draped around you said so in large, cursive letters and so it was your turn to have the most important seat of the house. It was a ridiculous ordeal, he thought so anyway, but you were smiling and chatting and enjoying the company of your friends and it was good to see. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened and knew very well he was to blame.

He was the one who pushed you away, even though it was for your own good.

You took Thor’s gift just as the waiter began to serve your first course, and since he was seated closest to you, you thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Steve’s gift came last. You didn’t expect anything from him given the circumstances.

Four hours, six courses and many glasses of wine and Asgardian mead later, you found yourself back in your room. Gifts given to you by your fellow team members were sprawled out on your bed, ranging from a pair of silk pajamas with glittery Ugg slippers to match from Wanda to Starbucks and Sephora gift cards from Sam and everything in between. Chocolate covered strawberries in a glittery box, two romance novels, a bottle of beautifully aged red wine from Asgard and a peach-toned Dior lipstick, all tokens of appreciation given to you by the people you cared about the most.

Despite the hardships that you faced the previous year and the social distancing that occurred during that time, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be with the team again. You’d changed a lot in a year, grown to be a different person than the one you were before. It wasn’t necessarily a good or a bad thing in your mind, it just happened naturally.

You sat down beside the velvet box, eyes automatically flying towards the item on your far left. A drawing of you, sitting on a terrace, staring out into the sunny skyline with a cup of coffee in your hand. It was an old drawing by the looks of it because your hair was much shorter and a different shade and your clothing was far plainer than it was now; black jeans and a white t-shirt. A signature that read SR sat in the bottom right corner in messy, doctor-like handwriting. It made your toes curl.

Of course, he was the one with the overly personal gift. You didn’t know whether it was because he simply had no fucking clue what 21st-century women liked to receive for their birthdays or whether he’d purposely done it to make you remember the day it was drawn, but the latter happened and now, you were sitting on your bed with prickling eyes and goosebumps that lined your skin.

You remembered that day very vividly. You’d only been an Avenger for three months and were struggling to adjust to the fact that you had to suddenly follow orders. Before joining the team, you’d worked alone, hired by people with deep pockets and dark intentions. You made your own rules.

The first time Steve had taken you out for coffee he kind to offer you advice. At first, you thought it felt a little like he was trying to be the human resource manager with the way he talked to you, you continued to meet up every Saturday afternoon and as the weeks passed, something in the dynamic changed. He loosened up, got rid of his Captain America persona and instead became Steve. You didn’t know what caused the change, but it was good, allowed you to actually get to know the man behind the suit and vice versa.

That particular day was a good one, It was a sunny day in spring, not too hot and not too cold, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh flowers across the terrace. You’d ordered a latte, Steve liked it black. You weren’t talking, but instead, a comfortable silence hung between you. You’d brought a book just like you always did and read it while occasionally eyeing the people that passed you by. Steve, whose cheeks had become fiery red out of the blue, pulled out a leather-bound sketchbook and began to draw.

You never asked him what he was drawing, even when he stored away his pencils and shoved the book back inside his tote did you not bother to pry. Not even when you became so close you’d sometimes fall asleep together on the couch, did you not ask.

You knew now, but they didn’t say ignorance is bliss without reason.

You began to mindlessly pick at three layers of lavender toned sparkling nail polish, pulling at it as it came off your fingers with far too much ease. You’d paid the lady $60 for your manicure three days prior and now, you were ripping it off. With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, gripping the back of your heels so you could slip them off with ease. You’d probably never wear them again.

You slowly began to clean up the mess, discarded packaging, boxes, and gift bags and placing them in the corner of your room near the door. You put everything away except for the drawing, which you couldn’t decide what to do with. Why was it such a big deal to you, anyway? You hardly spoke to Steve anymore and if you did, it was during pre- and post-mission briefings. Maybe that’s why it made you feel so strange. it didn’t feel right, such a personal, intimate gift after how far the two of you had drifted apart.

He hadn’t asked you about Netflix in four months and you hadn’t offered your expertise on which shows and movies were the best. You didn’t bring him coffee anymore but instead, he made his own, never leaving enough in the pot for you to make a cup as well. The message he sent you was loud and clear and in return, you were an open book.

He’d grumble when a stranger was seated at the breakfast table on Sundays courtesy of your hospitality, avert his eyes when they tried to kiss you openly (which you refused). The pang in his chest would hit him when he saw Ubers out front whose engines were running to carry you to your dates in high-end restaurants and fancy bars. He wasn’t jealous, he kept telling himself. He was just worried about your safety when you disappeared into the night with strange men. Men that weren’t him, ironically.

He should’ve seen you when you were right in front of him. When you were there, literally waiting for him to make a move on you, begging him with your mannerisms and your looks, your glances, and smiles even when his jokes weren’t funny. He knew damn well you would make an amazing couple, that you could take on the entire fucking world as a duo, but he was too scared to put it on the line, too scared of what might happen once the bad guys caught a whiff of your relationship. They’d already tried to destroy Bucky and Jesus Christ, they nearly succeeded. He couldn’t handle the thought of losing you to an organization like HYDRA, or worse. He never told you this. You had no idea. You were convinced he didn’t want you because of your flaws. Because of who you were.

You got over it, shut out the thought of ever holding hands with Steve in public, the thoughts of ever feeling his lips softly pressing against your plump cheeks and his body weighing down on top of you while his voice vibrated against your ear and neck. You managed to forget about him, managed to exchange the memories and fantasies of him for diamond necklaces, silk blazers, and expensive shoes. You traded him in for strangers with big bank accounts driving nice cars wearing expensive suits. They managed to fill the void he created by pushing you away.

So yeah, the gift bothered you. It was too nice, too sweet, so sweet you had to struggle to stay stoic when thanking him earlier. You literally had to stop yourself from smiling too big, from allowing tears of gratitude and happiness to completely ruin your make-up. if things had been different, you would have done those things. They weren’t. He didn’t want you and now he was being nice. It didn’t make sense.

Just as you were about to change into a different outfit for the evening, your phone vibrated. You picked it up off your nightstand and opened it. It was a text message, but not from the guy who would be knocking on the front door in the coming hour.

I didn’t get a chance to personally wish you a happy birthday. Can we talk? -S

You gripped the device so hard you nearly crushed the screen. Six months ago, a message like this would’ve had you crying on your bathroom floor for four hours. Now, it just made you angry. So angry, that you picked your studded Louboutin off the floor and chucked it at the wall. The heel broke off against the concrete, but you didn’t notice. You weren’t going to wear them again anyway.

Your fingers typed furiously, breathing coming out in shallow huffs. Images of the girls he’d brought back to Tony’s party’s flashed before your eyes while your fingers went faster than your brain could keep up with.

Roof. Omw.

Whether he understood the abbreviation ‘omw’ or not, you didn’t take the time to guess. You left your room without changing into the other dress or putting on new shoes. The elevator went up agonizingly slowly, but it was too late to go back and take the stairs. The buttons were pushed and the door closed.

He was standing by the edge, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. In contrast to you, he had changed his attire, leaving the light blue button-down he was wearing earlier for a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looked down at your feet, noticed how your polished toes were bare and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he caught the expression on your face. You weren’t surprised to find him there first. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come up there running. Apparently, though, he did know what ‘omw’ meant.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, waving your phone in front of his face, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice wavering.

“What do I mean? What...,” you snorted, “What do you mean?! The gift, the talking? We shouldn’t be here.”

“But why?” He knew why but chose to ignore the sensical part of his brain that told him he shouldn’t be doing this.

You lifted your arms, a deep breath leaving you while you considered what to say. You wanted to come up with an excuse, tell him you were busy or that you’d lost sight of not just him, but the entire team, but fuck it, lying wouldn’t get you anywhere. It had never gotten you anywhere before.

“Because I have to get over you.”

He was silent, taking in your words. They stung, even though he already knew the truth they carried.

“I couldn’t have you constantly hanging around me anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing those girls hanging off your arm at those stupid parties and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear how fun they were and how great and wonderful and how amazing, and-”

He stepped forward, gripping your arms. The sudden contact made blood rush to your head, making you nauseous and dizzy simultaneously.

“I spent so much time wondering why they were better than me,” you mumbled, “I still haven’t figured it out.”

“They aren’t better than you,” he replied softly, “they don’t even compare to you.”

You looked up, eyes large and glossy and so goddamn pretty with that champagne eyeshadow and winged liner and Steve thought he was going to lose his mind then and there.

“I had to let you go because I’m afraid,” he admitted, “terrified of what might happen if anyone tries to get to you because of me.”

“Steve,” you tried, but couldn’t find words.

All this time, you thought he didn’t like you. That he wasn’t interested in you, didn’t want anything from you but a friendship at most. You’d taught yourself to ignore your constant desire for him because it would never be reciprocated.

“When you distanced yourself from me, I knew I’d messed up, but it was too late. I’d dug a hole for myself and there was nothing I could do to get back out,” he snorted, “I needed those girls as a distraction, but none of them are as good as you.”

He smiled sadly, taking your hands in his larger, calloused palms and began to rub circles on your knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’ve been stupid and an ass and I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you. I fucked up, Y/N.”

The skin on the back of his neck was soft when you clasped your fingers around it, muscles tensing up when you began to pull him down to meet you. Without heels on, you’d lost a significant amount of height on him, causing him to tower over you. On a hot day, he could be your personal parasol, shielding you from the sun with his entire body.

“Idiot,” you mumbled before his mouth found yours.

He kissed you, hands gripping your waist out of fear that if he were to let go, he’d wake up in his bed alone. But it wasn’t a dream, he knew it because the soft feeling of your glossy lips against his own was unlike anything he’d ever felt.

“Idiot,” you said again when you took a moment to breathe.

“I am,” he kissed you again, the sweet taste of Chardonnay and that night’s dessert - creme brulee and vanilla ice cream - still lingering on your tongue, sending his senses in complete overdrive.

“I don’t want to stay away from you anymore,” he said finally, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

You smiled, heart ready to explode from the sudden burst of happiness you experienced for the first time in a long time. Maybe Wanda was right all along.

“Steve, I can defend myself. You know that, right?” You mused.

“I’ll kill them if they try.”

He captured your lips with his again. The scent of his cologne, oud, and pine, nearly caused your knees to buckle from under you. You didn’t even realize the goosebumps that lined your skin, or the fact that the date you were supposed to meet up with had already bailed on you. It didn’t matter, because you finally had Steve where you wanted him. It only took for the two of you to drift apart almost completely for you to realize that you could never truly get away from one another.

You placed your head on top of his chest, allowing his body heat to warm you up in a hug that engulfed you. It was nice, the feeling of his chest rising and falling slowly while you watched the city’s skyline in the dark. The want for it had been suppressed for so long you almost forgot what it felt like.

“Steve?” You asked, peeking up at him through false eyelashes and three layers of waterproof mascara.

“Hmm?”

“Your gift was my favorite.”

Yeah, all of those bitches definitely weren’t better than you.

#steve rogers imagine #steve x reader #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers #marvel imagine #marvel smut #marvel #marvel writing #captain america imagine #captain america #captain america smut #captain america fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #jammywrites #avengers imagine #avenger x reader

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swan1974-blog · 8 years ago

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IPhantomParadise chapter 1

Swan Making Sure He’s Alone, Opens A Secret Wall  In His House.  He Steps Behind It And Mirror Mounted On The Door  Disappears As The Mirror Slips Into Place Behind Him.  As Swan Goes Inside,His Footsteps Walking Down A Hallway. The Dark Hallway Was Filled With Red Dimmed Lights The Red Dimmed Lights Were Shaped In Large Patterns Of Swan, Dead Bird Logo, Swan, Dead Bird Logo, Etc. On A Background Of Black.  Swan Stops At A Red Mirrored Door And Gets A Card From His Pocket. The Red Card Says In Black Letters Saying The Swanage Hotel. He Swiped It Down In The Slot. The Red Mirrored Door Opens Up To Reveal A Black Background Taping Room With Red Lighting On The Walls And The Red Mirror Circular Shaped Dimmed Light In The Middle Of The Ceiling. It’s A Flattened Oval Object That Is Red With The Appearance Of The Dark And Red Light.  Swan Enters The Room Stepping Through A Framed Doorway Labeled “Portrait Of Swan.”  The Room Is Filled With Racks Of Video Tape, All  Individually Dated, Going Back 51 Years.  There Were Red Reel Boxes With Black Bold Letters There Were Black Reel Boxes With Red Bold Letters. The First Red Box On The Uppermost Shelf Is Entitled “Sam’s Death”  Swan Takes The Box Down, Pulls Out The Reel Of Video Tape And Threads It Up On A Large Recorder In The Room.   Only For A Brief Second, Swan caught A Glimpse Of A Strange, Faded Logo Saying Death Records Film Productions On The Recorder,  It Looks Like A Red Bird Laying On Its Back On The Black Recorder  He Pushes The “Play Button.”  He Walks Over To His Seat.  Then The Camera Pans Over To The Old Recorder And It Starts Spinning Automatically. Swan Passes A Panel Of Large Tv Monitors That Recorded  Swan’s Every Move. (On One Of Huge Monitor Tv Screens Is A Picture Of Swan  And Sam At The Monitor Control Panel.) And Stops Before A Large Video Tape Recorder.  He Pushes “Rewire” And The Machine Complies.  Then He Pushes Play.  We Cut To A Close Shot Of Swan’s Face  As He Watches The Video Tape Playback Of His Daughter death From The Day Before.  For The First Time, We See Swan Without His Cool.  In Fact He’s Sweating.  There’s Something Up There On  The Monitor He Finds Almost Unbearable To Watch.  It’s Excruciating. Swan wore The Red And Black Bird Vest,Satin Black Flared Bellbottoms That Reached To The Floor Covering His Shoes,Satin Black Shirt With Filly Cuffs On The Folded Collars And Sleeve Cuffs, A Red And Black Flamed Patterned Ascot,Black Satin Dress Gloves, Red Tinted Aviator Glasses With Black Metal Framing Around The Lenses. Swan sits at The Black Satin Swan Chair With Red Eyes in the middle of the taping room. swan was very anxious and nervous. His eyes narrowed at Sam's picture on the wall and she is wearing red and black as swan. swan sadly smiles at the thought of Sam. He sees a video tape showing Samantha Puckett Reese Was 18 Years Old Driving In A Car, Looking Happy.   Sam Was Driving Logan And Herself,Her Mom To A College Visit.   A Logging Truck Collided On The Passenger Side And The Car Rolled Down A Hill Four Times And Stopped.  Logan Was Horrified And Checked Behind Him To See His Mom Behind Him.   “Oh My Gosh, Is My Sister,Mother Okay?” He Screamed As Paramedics Rushed To Get Them Out Of The Car.  At The Hospital, Logan Survived With Minimal Injuries And Sonya The Same.   He Called Swan And Said They Were In An Accident But Logan,Sonya Was Okay.  Swan Was 60 Years Old But He Still Looked 20.  “What About Sam?” Swan Asked.  “What You Mean Sam??” Sonya Snapped “I Mean Of Course I Am Glad You And Logan Are Okay But Sam Is Precious To Me As Well,” Swan Said.  Sonya Sighed, And After A Few Silent Minutes ,She Replied Coldly,“Sam Was On The Side The Logging Truck Hit.”  Swan Gasped. “What?!” He Cried. “She Had A Traumatic Brain Injury With Fatal Blood Loss.” Sonya Said.  Swan Was Heavily Breathing And Sweating.   Swan Believed Whole Heartedly In Miracles Until This Horrible Day. “She Almost Died But She’s Waiting For You To Hear Her Last Words Sonya Said Finally.  Swan’s Warm Heart Turned Frozen Carbon Dioxide Cold And Was Hard As Stone.  His Blood Started Boiling. “Oh My Gosh Sonya Do You Even Care What Happened To Her? Only Concerned With Logan? Sonya You Selfish Idiot!”  “Don’t Call Me That,” Sonya Said.  “Why Should I Not? You Deserve Being Called That! Why Did I Even Marry You? Why?” Swan Screamed.  “We Are So Done In Our Marriage It Is Unbelievable How You Loved Her,” Sonya Said.   Swan Angerily Yelled,Excuse Me You Neglected Her And All I Did Was Take Her Under My Wing!  Swan Was Crying Tremendously Now.   Never Before Did Swan Felt A Pain So Deep, It Consumed Who He Once Was.   Then He Saw Sam Calling Out For Him Then He Ran To Her Room.   Swan Comes In Her Room. Swan Now Felt Everything At Once.  It Was Like He Was Carrying The Weight Of The World’s Burdens On His Shoulders.   Swan Says,My Poor Angel! Sam Says,Oh, Daddy, Swan Now Carefully Carried Sam In His Arms.   Sam Saying Her Last Words That Made Him Cry Harder He Had Been Since His Mother Died Of Cancer,You Have Given Me A Life That I Would Be Proud Of Even If It Was Short Lived. Swan Says,You Will Be Okay, Child, I Promise, Heaven’s Gates Are Waiting To Let You In At This Moment. Sam Now Kisses Him Goodbye And Held On To Him As Swan Was Her Lifeline. Her Heartbeat Beated Slowly And Flatline.  He Felt As If That Was The Beginning Of A Long Life Nightmare.   Swan Sadly Says,Enjoy Your Life Forever In Heaven. Then He Slowly Kissed Her Cheek.  He Never Wanted To Let Her Go,He Was So Heart Broken.   Swan Was Numb,Alone.   Swan Never Moved From His Spot,Still Traumatized.   Swan Felt A Flood Of A Mix Of Emotions Flow Through Him And His Broken Depressed Soul Ached With Hurt And Sorrow While Looking At Her.  Swan Never Letted Go Of Sam Hours Later Until The Doctors Tried To Take Her Away From Him. Swan Was Bawling His Eyes Out In Pain.  Swan Yelled Out,Nooo!!!!   The Doctors Held Him Back As They Carried Her Body Away.   The Doctors Tried To Calm Him Again,He Did Calm Down.   Swan’s Doctor Felt Swan’s Pain Because He Lost A Child The Same Way, He Tried To Talk To Swan,Hey There, I Understand Your Pain. I Am Always Here To Lend A Helping Hand.   Swan Says,Thanks.   Swan Weakly Smilies.   The Doctor Says,Be Glad To Help. I’m Your Doctor You Know? I Known You For A Long Time Since We Were Kids. I Know How You Were When Your Mom Died. Let Me Know If You Need Anything?   Swan Says,I Will Let You Know. Everyone He Knew Went To Sam’s Funeral, Everyone Except For Of Course…Sonya.   The Tape Now Shows After The Funeral, A Traumatized Swan Looked At Sam’s Room Once More. Swan Picked Up A Baby Cub Doll Which Belonged To Sam. Swan Can Imagine Hearing Her Voice Saying I Love You.   Then Swan Turned Angry And Crazed.   Swan Says,Fuck!!!! Why?! Why Did This Have To Happen?!   He Smashed Sam’s Room In Anger Then Cut His Wrists.   He Threw Everything In The Floor, But Red Thunder Boomed Outside The Window. Swan Felt Roaring Rage And Deep Sorrow.  Then He Kneels Down On The Floor Crying.   Then He Sadly Says To Himself,I Never Want To Let Her Go For The Life Of Me. Swan Gets Up And Leaves Her Room.   Then Swan Gets In His Room, Swan Now Looked At His Wardrobe And Sighed.  He Now Started To Wear Red And Black Because He Knew It Was Her Favorite Colors, Not For Dressing Like The Devil.  But Really He Was Wearing It Because It Felt Like Her.   He Told Himself,Because I Liked How Black,Red Suited Me, It Was… Stylish,And I Liked How Soft It Was. But Really I Was Wearing It Because It Smelled Like Home, And It Smelled Like Sam And I Wanted So Badly For It To Be Her Wrapped Around Me Rather Than Wearing The Wardrobe. But It Did Cheer Me Up A Little, When I Close My Eyes And Pretended That The Part Of Me That Loved Sam Was The Only Part Of Me.   Swan Sighed In Sorrow. But Swan Knew He Wouldn’t Get The Chance To See Her Get Married,Have Skylar Again And Raise Her.  He Wanted Everything The Best Just For Her.  Now They Took Her Away From Him Then He Felt Boiling Anger Towards His Wife That Drove Him To Being Suicidal And Filled Him With Emotional Scars That Would Never Heal.   Swan Knew That By His Painful Realization And Says To Himself, My Loving Daughter Who Was The Only Living Thing I Had Ever Loved Properly And Who Had Loved Me Back. I Painfully Now Know That I Would Never Get To See Her Again.  Swan Felt Anger, Swan Thought Soyna Wanted His Sam To Suffer.  Sonya Wanted Her To End Up Like Her Father And Suffer.   Then He Realized That He Won’t Get To See Her Ever Again.  Swan Now Cried For Her..   Swan Fell Asleep With Sams Voice He Recorded When She Was Little And Now Holding The Red And Black Ring She Gave Him Before She Died.   Then Clenching Her Baby Cub Doll Tightly And Saying, She Was So Young…   Swan Says To Himself When He Goes To Sleep,But I Am Glad I Knew Her At All. Swan Closed His Eyes Shut.   The Next Day After Sam’s Funeral, Swan Summons The Devil To Kill Sonya After Seeing Her Make Love To Another Man.   Swan Gets A Voodoo Doll To Look Like Sonya Swan Ripped It Apart And Seeing Her In Pain. Swan Lets Out A Terrifying Evil Laugh. Swan Evilly Smilies.   Swan Now Burns The Coffin After Putting Sonya’s Dead Body In The Coffin.   The Camera Focused On The Purple And Black Bruises On The Skin And Face After Swan Punched The Corpse.   Swan Shuts The Coffin Door And Says, See You In Hell You Bitch! That’s Where You Belong. Swan Gets Gasoline All Over The Coffin Swan Strikes The Match And Dropped It On The Coffin Which Burned A Huge Flame.  Swan Runs From The Flames, Swan Felt Satisfied At Seeing The Devil Dragging Sonya To Hell In The Flames, The Flames Disappear And Swan Goes In The Limo.   The Dark Sad Tape Ends By Fading Out To Black.   Swan’s Smile Turned Into A Frown as he watched her death tape.   He Can Hear His Aged Voice From When Sam Died, Swan Shrugged At The Sight Of It Swan Carefully Walks Over To See The Tape Beginning Again On The Projector Screen.  He Sees The Car Accident On The Tape.   Swan Turns Around His Head And Swan Had Tears Now Since He Heard Sam’s Screaming And Blood On The Tape, Swan cried into his hands As Swan Watched Sam’s Death Tapes By Himself, He Felt Like It Was Like Reliving Her Death. He Still Felt Physical Pain Along With The Emotional Pain.  It Has Been Years And Years And He Feels He Has Been Scarred For Life From The Traumatic Incident.  His Jaw Dropped, But He Could Not Speak.  He Felt His Pain Could Not Be Expressed Through Only Mere Words.  He Felt Anger And Sadness. He Slowly Closed His Eyes In Anger.

#swan #phantom of the paradise #paul williams #sam puckett

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