#no it's gay this is gay the Gay is coming from inside the rotting haunted house

[marzipanandminutiae]

I remember when I first saw the movie (in theatres) and thought "ahhh, in the past the Transgressive Romance would have been gay, but that's not considered bad anymore so they made it incest instead! so clever!"

turns out I was underestimating both the gay subtext levels of Crimson Peak and the incest levels of classic gothic fiction

I spend so much time thinking about various combinations of how Edith and Lucille can do Gay Things

And I think I am not only correct but also sexy for this

[gallavictorious]

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”   

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions. 

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

 Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

[honey-hippie-harper]

through the burning shell

Hello it’s been 84 years.

This is fun :): I wrote this as a Christmas present for @obsidianfr3sk (YES DAWNIE KEEP POSTING YOU CHRISTMAS FICS DURING MARCH. YOU GO GIRL) and it’s a sequel to my other fic “through the bleeding shell” where I basically try to save Simon and Hugh from the queerbaiting MM turned them into by adding a certain degree of complexity to their relationship. This is a story about gays, grief and a dead friend + Simon defending Nova bc I don’t roll with Supernova. Hence, I am not morally obligated to obey canon <3

Anyway afgdhjafghsj i don’t think you need to read the first part to understand this, and I hope you like it <3. I don’t want to give much away, but this sort of turned into a collaboration that got out of control and @obsidianfr3sk might write a third part in the future ;)

through the burning shell

“There have been rumors that the public revealing of Agent N is to include a public execution as well.”

Being all together, right there, Simon saw Hugh narrowing his eyes, staring directly at Genissa Clark, formerly Frostbite, now neutralized, along with the rest of her team.

Well.

Almost all of them.

“That’s true.” Hugh started, and Simon couldn’t help but think he shouldn’t have answered. A part of him was getting a pretty bad feeling from this. “For his crimes against humanity, Ace Anarchy has been sentenced to death.”

“Why stop there?” Said Genissa. “I would argue that his accomplices deserve the same fate.”

The same fate.

His brain struggled to make a connection between that sentence and the one Hugh had uttered. At first, he didn’t understand. A couple of fast seconds later, Simon realized that, by saying “fate”, she was referencing something.

She was referencing, more specifically, Ace Anarchy’s sentence.

A death sentence.

Accomplices.

The Anarchists.

“Nightmare deserves the same fate.” Nova deserves the same fate. “Nightmare must die… And I want to be the one to do it.”

Nova must die.

And I want to be the one to do it.

A child killing another child, publicly, with the Renegades’ permission.

A child they had taken under their wing, Genissa Clark that is, killing another child, who had been in Simon’s house, who had touched Adrian’s heart, and who had made bad choices but was still a person. The official version of the events said she had stabbed Max, and Danna claimed she was Nightmare, but they hadn’t taken any declarations or anything, so that story might as well just change.

Simon couldn’t help but feel she didn’t deserve to die.

Maybe because she actually didn’t. It didn’t feel fair.

One thing was sentencing Ace Anarchy, the man who had lifted an entire city, leaving a ridiculously huge number of deaths in the process, who had stolen, broken and burned, who had killed a man (the mayor) and his pregnant wife, who had killed his own brother, sister-in-law and possibly his two nieces...and another, pretty different thing was to allow this 19 year old girl kill a 16 year old one, who had some crimes that could put her into jail for like 3 or 5 years, but weren’t horrible enough to give her a death sentence. She was a minor. She wasn’t yet beyond repair…

And if she was to be executed, then she was still a minor. She didn’t deserve to be humiliated like that. She didn’t deserve her life to be taken away with so little dignity.

Not by Genissa Clark.

Not like that.

And, stars, please, not now.

Not right now.

It was unthinkable, it was barbaric, it was animal, it was almost as if…

A quiet chuckle.

A quiet chuckle that, suddenly, interrupted his train of thought and, with all the pain in his heart, he was able to recognize in a blink.

Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark, nonchalantly, was blackmailing them. She was trading her silence for the legal permission to kill someone, in front of a crowded arena. And Evander was chuckling.

Genissa Clark wanted to murder Nova, and Evander was chuckling.

“Is that all it will take to quit their complaining?”

What else did he want?

“Works for me.”

Simon almost flinched to the audacity. To the severity of the implication. To the way he was saying it. So smug. So relaxed, so….Evander it almost made Simon mad.

That was so Evander lately.

Because, lately, Evander didn’t understand anything. Not even because he had a pregnant wife waiting for him at home. There was life inside that woman. Life that had come from him.

How couldn’t he understand?

How could somebody be so cold?

“These are lives we’re discussing.” Simon reminded him, shooting a look in his direction.

“Villains’ lives.” Evander responded. “Nightmare doesn’t deserve mercy any more than Ace Anarchy does. She was the one who neutralized them, so it seems fair to me.”

Villains’ lives were still lives.

Nova was a person.

Nova was...Nightmare, but before Nightmare, she was Nova, and Hugh and him had met her personally. Adrian had met her personally.

And, besides, with this logic, then all the Renegades were to be executed.

After all, Agent N was meant to be used by Renegades. They were the ones who were planning to neutralize people when they felt threatened. But when Nightmare did it, then she immediately deserved the death penalty.

Hugh would understand that. Everyone would understand that, just like Simon did.

They had to understand it.

Hugh had to understand it.

-.-

Yet, he didn’t.

Some time ago, Hugh had pledged to understand. Not directly per se, but he had pledged it in the name of his cause.

He promised he would understand.

And then, when he needed to understand the most, he didn’t.

He said he would.

Then he fucking didn’t.

“How can we run a city, much less an entire world, if we’re busy dealing with every trivial bit of bureaucratic nonsense that comes up?” He said.

“This solves two problems at once.” He said.

And he said that to Adrian’s, their son, face. Their son, who was just trying to help, by questioning how morally correct was to do something like that, just like Tamaya, Kasumi and himself had done, being ignored in the process.

“We need that right now. And we need to be united in this decision.”

“And why’s that, exactly?” Adrian asked. “Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

In that moment, Simon knew Adrian had never spoken to Hugh like that. He had always been a pretty calm kid, who liked to question their decisions sometimes because, as a Renegade himself, of course he would feel uncomfortable or have doubts sometimes. But never had he called Hugh out. Not in that tone. Not with that entire bottle of venom flowing out of his mouth, melting his teeth, and mixing with his boiling blood.

Simon felt unable to tell him to stop, after his own voice had been ignored, and Hugh pretended Evander was the only one who mattered in the team. And it wasn’t that Evander didn’t matter.

It was just that he was wrong.

Besides, harsh as that sounded, Simon still couldn’t believe that those stinky, rotting, putrid, nauseating words had come from Hugh’s mouth. His Hugh. The man he had decided to marry, because he loved him so, so much, for him had been able to see him even when he was invisible. Literally.

Right in front of his eyes, Hugh morphed into a caricaturesque villain. His hands, which Simon had held so many times, were suddenly covered in both dry and fresh blood, red as an apple, but smelling like death.

Death.

The same death that was living like a parasite inside of his eyes, the only place that other people could harm. And the parasite was traveling through his system, all the way to his brain, spinning it around like a mirrorball, and eating from it like he was nothing.

Hugh’s hands were tied, too, and the strings were made of rope, a material he could easily tear apart, but seemed to have forgotten about that.

He was like a puppet, as the press, as society, and as tons and tons of eyes pulled from the ropes.

And nobody knew how to free him, not even himself.

“Do we not want the world to know this is actually a dictatorship?”

Adrian’s voice haunted him for days. The way in which he said that haunted him for days, and after a while, Simon just accepted he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it. It had become another one of the wounds he carried, open and bleeding, through life. The worst part of it all, was that Simon knew Adrian was right. That, at this point, everyone but Hugh, Evander and Genissa Clark were right.

But if he knew where had they gone wrong, and if he knew he didn’t agree with this monstrosity...why did it hurt so much?

How did you speak to a person who didn’t want to listen?

And, most importantly: Where were you supposed to get the courage to do it from?

 -.-

 Nova had spent seventeen days in Cragmoor Penitentiary when Adrian said he wanted to see her. He had been so mad at her, that it caught Simon off guard.

Not that he wasn’t able to understand it.

Adrian had had a couple of girlfriends and boyfriends throughout his life but, from what Simon could see, Nova was by far the one he had been the most serious about, to the point it almost seemed she was the one who would stay. Simon would’ve wanted to see his partner too, no matter how mad he was at said partner, if he knew they had been sentenced to death.

As fast as they could, knowing they were facing an authority (Adrian had asked them to be with him in the room), the wardens brought her right away, in a matter of minutes.

Through the glass, Simon saw her, on the metal platform, with her arms and legs being held, tightly, by braces, which were equally made of metal. For the look in her eye, Simon could almost hear her desperate begs for her visitor not to be Adrian. Yet, he had been, and he wasn’t alone, which, if anything, only made it worse.

Simon, from his part, was staring at two different glasses at the time. The one that divided them from Nova, and Adrian’s glasses, which revealed the pain he was penetrating Nova’s soul with, and also the rage he was entitled to feel.

But Nova looked small.

She, in fact, looked as small as she actually was.

She was almost a kid. She hadn’t yet started living. Yet, she was locked up here, and would only be taken out to be killed.

Nova’s body was shaking, just like Adrian’s. Her chin was quivering so much it almost seemed like she was cold, and Simon felt a twinge in his stomach. He felt nauseous and dizzy. And so evil and so guilty.

For some reason, he pictured a child, because Nova had been a younger child once, full of joy and innocence.

 He pictured a child. Just like that.

 Maybe she was wearing pigtails, had a gap between two of her teeth, and bruised legs, because she liked to play outside with her friends. Maybe, before she became Nightmare, she had something else to hold on to. Maybe she, like many people out there,  had hoped for the Renegades to come, and when they didn’t do it, something became numb, and cold, and she started freezing to death, just like she would remain freezing, suspended in History, as the interrupted life who was the proof the Renegades had become the one thing they promised they would never be.

And Simon didn’t want to be part of that, yet he was still here.

He was still here, thinking about how fortunate he was that Nova wasn’t staring back at him, but at Adrian instead, as selfish as that might’ve sounded.

Simon felt he had lost the right to look her in the eye, having been the one who promised her, on several occasions, that she could look into theirs.

With each one of his limbs becoming tense, Simon took a deep breath. His mouth tasted like bile, and his whole body was pounding along with this heart. It felt like one of those times when you were almost a hundred percent sure you were having a heart attack, despite knowing that, if that was the case, you would already be on the floor crying for help.

Next thing he felt was the sudden and strong urge to speak.

He would’ve liked to talk to Nova, but through this glass, she couldn’t hear anything.

Besides, Simon knew that this moment wasn’t about him, or Hugh. They were involved in it. They were carrying it in their backs like a cross, but it wasn’t about them. It was about Nova and Adrian. There was glass between the two. They could press their hands together through it, but they couldn’t touch the other’s skin. They couldn’t feel the air the other breathed in the short distance. They couldn’t kiss. It was scary. It was sad. And it wasn’t awfully familiar.

But it wasn’t about Simon or Hugh.

“Do you need some privacy?” Simon asked, perhaps to both of them, knowing one wouldn’t be able to hear him, even if she tried.

In response, Adrian turned his gaze away from Nova, staring at Simon instead, nodding.

“I think that would be nice.”

Before Simon could say anything else, Hugh reached for his son’s shoulder, and once he touched it, he caressed the fabric, and the skin beneath the fabric, briefly.

“We’ll be in the lobby.”

Adrian nodded again and then, after gulping, he said:

“I love you, okay?”

The weird thing was, he didn’t look them in the eye for much. He did, but he turned his gaze away pretty fast, barely leaving time to process his own words. For that reason, nor Hugh or him responded.

They left right after that, leaving Adrian alone inside the room.

With Nova, but alone.

 -.-

They dropped Adrian at the hospital once they left Cragmoon. There was barely any sound throughout the whole ride, except when Hugh asked if they wanted something from the store, and when they said goodbye to Adrian.

Obviously, Adrian couldn’t get close to Max. Not if he wanted to avoid being neutralized by him, but sometimes, according to Adrian himself, he liked to stay in the waiting room, and help the staff with whatever they needed, for he liked Max to know he came to visit often, and that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t touch, or be in the same room with him. So they just allowed him to stay in the hospital as much as he needed. After all, it’s not like he was hurting anybody.

After that, everything was silent, all the way home, because, instead of driving towards the Headquarters, Hugh drove towards the mansion, leaving Tamaya in charge, under the excuse they would take a two hour break to have lunch together at home. She wasn’t so happy about it, but agreed anyway, because it’s not like Hugh had given her an option in the first place. He had just notified her. At this point, Hugh’s volume was getting the tiniest bit loud.  And Simon wasn’t talking about his voice.

Upon arriving into the house, Hugh threw the keys by the entrance’s table and proceeded to walk all the way towards the living room, to lay on the couch, one arm covering his eyes, without even taking his costume off. He didn’t have a reason to, because they were supposed to be back at the Headquarters in two hours and, besides, the elephant in the room was making it cold. Maybe he felt his armor would protect him from what they were doing, and from what they were still doing.

Sadly, the fabric of Simon’s costume wasn’t as warm. And as he took his mask off and placed it next to keys, he felt nothing but cold wind. He was back again at being Simon, and Simon only, without anything protecting him, in the same room as the husband who rarely ever kissed him anymore.

There was an elephant in the room, and it was killing both of them, though Hugh looked like he was already dead.

Simon tried not to pay attention to him, but when he was crossing to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but ask, in an unintentionally harsh tone:

“Are we going to have lunch or did you just want to make Tamaya more stressed?”

Hugh lowered his arm, staring at him with an arched eyebrow, lifting his neck just a little, to have a clearer view. Simon was starting to feel bad for having snapped at him, but not enough to take it back.

Sometimes you had to do the right thing, and sometimes the right thing was not taking it back.

His husband, from his part, looked rather confused, as if he couldn’t recognize the person in front of him.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked.

The question caught him off guard.

Was he okay? Simon wasn’t sure, nor did he want to answer. In times like these, Hugh wanted people to answer him what he wanted to hear and, sadly, this time Simon didn’t have any answer he would like.

“Did you take your pills, Si?”

Something inside of his body turned into a tight knot, and Simon turned his gaze towards him, in a violent act. He frowned so deeply he felt his skin itching, and though he knew that, under normal circumstances, he would’ve just interpreted this as a routinary question, this time it wasn’t the case at all. This time it felt like an attack. Like something Hugh had to take back immediately because it was not his place to ask it, that is:  a question he always asked anyway.

But not this time.

Because ,this time, he wasn’t okay.

“Don’t pull the anxiety card on me, Hugh.” Saying that left a bitter, disgusting firm on his mouth, right under his tongue, which was dry. He felt like he had just chewed on a pill.

“The anxie--” Hugh narrowed his eyes, shifting into a sitting position. “I’m not pulling that card on you. I’m just asking a question.”

“Then don’t ask that question.” Simon snapped again, heading towards the kitchen to get a class of water. His feet were making too much noise when in contact with the floor, and his mouth was too dry. It was making him crazy.

It was only then that he realized they still had something else pending, and for some reason that was enough to make him stay. Simon spun on his toes, facing him. Hugh was breathing heavily, and his brows were almost touching each other.

“You didn’t answer my question, though.” He told him, in a dry tone. “Did you want to have lunch with me or did you just think taking a break while Tamaya loses her mind would be fun?”

“If Tamaya didn’t want to be in charge, she would’ve told me, and you know that.”

“Tamaya talks back when she is given a chance to.”

An empty feeling of freedom filled Simon’s body, pushing his way into the hollow all his mixed feelings had been carving at the center of his stomach.

And it wasn’t just about Tamaya, really. It wasn’t just about how lately none of her ideas were taken into consideration. Rather, it was about how nor were Kasumi’s, or his own ideas, when they tried to speak up. It was about how things were getting weirder and weirder as time went by, to the point where Simon would see a very pregnant Tamaya in the hallway, apparently fine, but stating she didn’t know if her water was breaking or if she just really needed to use the restroom (the restroom where she didn’t fit in); it was about how everyone knew damn well that Kasumi wasn’t good at public speaking and that, if anything, it just worsened her selective mutism, and yet many important speeches were given to her; it was about how Simon felt like he was talking to a wall, and how that made him feel, suspect, even, that Hugh was back to being trapped in a closet he was already too big for.

It wasn’t just about that, in conclusion.

It was just the tip of a bigger and more messed up problem.

“Well, if you want Tamaya to go bathe in her Greek goddess shower-pool-whatever that thing is, then fine. I’ll call her, I’ll tell her to take the day off, and we go back to the Headquarters.”

 “That would be great, actually!” Simon laughed sarcastically. “But you know what would be even better?”

“I don’t, Si. You tell me.”

It was a rhetorical question.

The nerve.

“That we would act like a team. That we would stop lollygagging around and take realistic turns to have our breaks, because each one of us have lives, and we’re not the only ones who have needs.” And that was about Kasumi feeling like she couldn’t do it today but having to anyway; it was about Tamaya crying in the BBQ Sunday, explaining to her husband how she wanted her baby to be with her, as a baby bawled into her arms, trying to reach for his father, because she spent so little time at home her youngest son wouldn’t recognize her sometimes; it was about Evander claiming Sandy didn’t feel like being alone with her baby bump today, but showing up at work anyway.

And yes, they had pledged to do this, but they were supposed to be in it together.

“But how should I know?” Simon hissed. “It’s not like we’re a Council or anything.”

The bile was all over his mouth now, and Simon felt possessed. He didn’t know how to stop it, and the words just kept coming, and coming and coming, as Hugh stared, half-startled, half mad.

Simon felt like he was a loaded gun that was ready to kill everything that moved, for a reason and a cause.

All those repressed feelings. All those things he desperately wanted to say but never could. The anxiety. The desperate, insatiable craving for a touch that never came. For a kiss. For anything. For a sign. A sign of whatever. One single sign, that would just let him know Hugh was still here.

“It’s not like you needed the majority of us to agree to sentence that minor to death.” He let it go, and all the air, along with his soul, left Simon’s body. “It’s not like Evander and you needed such thing, did you?”

Hugh’s confusion frown suddenly shifted.

Then, all Simon saw was the embodiment of anger, with his cheeks becoming flushed, and his knuckles becoming yellow.

“So that’s what this is all about.”

There was one word to describe that tone, and that word was condescension.

To Simon, the gut-wrenching feeling of frustration that caused him was indiscriptable, and he didn’t wish it to anybody. He would’ve preferred Hugh to scream at him, or just refuse to answer at all, because he couldn’t take it.

He had had people talking down to him his entire life. He wasn’t willing to keep tolerating that.

And in the moment he stared into Hugh’s blue eyes, Simon knew there was no turning back. Because sometimes the right thing to do was not taking it back.

Others, it was not holding it back.

“No. In fact, it’s not about that.”

“WHAT IS IT, THEN?!”

“YOU TELL ME!” Simon howled, getting one step closer to him, and all the memories started flowing...more likely, overflowing, including that time when he had talked to Kasumi and Tamaya in the living room, just like as if they were teenagers, instead of grown ass people, about how Hugh was leaving, even though he was still right there.

Right there, looking like a corpse.

A blue, stiff corpse.

“Why don’t you ever kiss me anymore?” Simon asked, and his voice sounded way less threatening than he had intended. “Why?”

“Are you really going to pull that card on me?”

“I am going to pull it because I want to know!” Simon barked, pointing at his own chest, which was getting tighter and tighter with every second. “Why don’t you ever touch me anymore? Why am I always invisible to you, even when I’m not? Why are you so fucking cold all the time? Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?!”

Hugh wheezed, maybe pretending it didn’t make sense, or maybe pretending he hadn’t understood at all. Still smirking, he ran his fingers through his hair, and stared at Simon, scratching his chin, and clicking his tongue.

“So...Sex.”

Simon’s heart was pounding.

“Yes, sex!” He yelled, shameless. “And kisses, and hugs and my husband! That is what am I asking for!”

“WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?! WE’RE BUSY!”

“WE’RE NOT BUSY NOW!”

“SO YOU WANT TO GET LAID NOW?!”

“I’M NOT GETTING LAID WHILE THINKING ABOUT HOW A CHILD WILL BE EXECUTED BY ANOTHER CHILD BECAUSE I WASN’T ALLOWED TO DO ANYTHING TO STOP IT FROM HAPPENING!”

“SHE TRIED TO KILL ME! SHE TRIED TO KILL MAX!”

“FIRST: AN ATTEMPTED ASSASINATION IS NOT ENOUGH TO GIVE SOMEBODY A DEATH PENALTY, AND, SECOND: THAT’S WHAT GENISSA SAID!”

“ISN’T THAT ENOUGH?!”

“THAT’S NOT ENOUGH!” Simon screamed, covering his ears with hands.

He didn’t know why, specifically, the ears, knowing that, in reality, his eyes were the problem, because every time he closed them, he saw Nova in that chair, like an animal. And he saw Genissa standing in the lobby, playing with them like puppets; he saw Evander’s despicable smirk when he told Genissa to go ahead; he saw Adrian’s furious eyes as he called his own dad a dictator; he saw Hugh.

Mostly, he saw Hugh, and the caricaturesque villain version of him, which Simon despised with every inch of his being.

Then he was back at the beginning. At Nova.

Nova, who had tan skin, pitch black hair and slanted blue eyes. And Nova, who looked familiar when she smiled, because she looked similar to that man who had come to the Headquarters asking for help, whose smile looked similar to the other person who carried their blood.

And Simon couldn’t help but consider it as a real possibility. And if he happened to be right, then they were failing her.

For the second time.

“It’ll never be enough, Hugh.” He declared. “Because she…”

Simon’s internal knots became tighter, to the point they were suffocating him.

“How do we know who this girl is?” he questioned. “How do we know it isn’t her?”

“Her, who? What are you talking about?”

“Her. The one we failed to protect.” Simon felt a tear slipping from his eye, as he became closer and Hugh walked backwards. “Uh? How do we know that? How do we…?”

But something stopped him.

 And that something was Hugh’s eyes, turning grey as chromium.

He was breathing fast. Faster with every second, and where maybe he saw anger, Simon saw nothing but deep, stored pain, flowing out of him like sweat, or like the tears that weren’t there.

There was Hugh’s bleeding shell again, protecting him like he was a small child curled up on the floor, in a ball, through a polarized surface where Simon and him couldn’t touch, and where nothing could hurt him, while everything could at the same time.

There it was.

The despicable, horrid, bleeding shell.

Except this time it wasn’t bleeding. No. No.

This time, the dense, bubbling blood was falling off it, reaching Simon’s feet, and the shell was in flames. Tall, untamable flames, that were burning the roof and everything surrounding them.

The shell was burning, while Hugh was inside of it, and nobody could get him out before he was burned to death.

Why didn’t he let anyone help him?

Why did he insist the flames weren’t there?

Why couldn’t Simon hold his hand?

Why was he so far?

“We didn’t fail to protect her. She died.” Hugh declared, and when Simon saw his lips quivering, he realized they weren’t talking about Nova anymore.

“She didn’t fail. She died. “ Simon saw the silver painting Hugh’s fingertips, as tears started rolling down his face. “She died! SHE DIED, WHEN IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME, SIMON!”

The bleeding shell was burning, and Simon still couldn’t find his way in.

“IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! AND SHE DIED! SHE DIDN’T FAIL TO PROTECT ANYONE! SHE DIED! IT SHOULD’VE BEEN ME! SHE DIED, SIMON! SHE DIED!”

Their eyes met for a couple of second, and the connection vanished after a blink.

“IT’S NOT HER FAULT SHE DIED, IT’S MINE!”

Hugh was sobbing, like a small child, and Simon was too.

“...It’s...it’s mine, Simon. Always has been.”

And they were so far, despite being so close, that they were left with holding themselves tight.

Because there was no way to get into the burning shell, for Hugh, strangely as it sounded, had never said those words out loud, because he thought the picture on the wall behind him, the one with the woman wearing a floral pink dress with their son -who was also hers- sitting on her lap, would hear him and that would make her sad.

Yet, Simon knew she wasn’t sad at the moment.

He knew her well enough to know she would’ve been disappointed, instead.

Anybody would be if they had to see their family kill the one thing they had died trying to protect.

“No.” Simon declared, calmly. “But I’m not going to go and try to convince you otherwise because I know it’s not the right time.”

Hugh started shaking.

“Si…”

“And I won’t be a part of this, either.” Simon declared, firm, still staring at the picture through the corner of his eye, yet still fully focused on Hugh. “From now on, all you’ll get from me is silence in regards to the issue. I’m not willing to be a part of it. I don’t agree with this. I will never agree.”

“You don’t understand.”

“And I’m glad I don’t. In fact, I hope I never do.” Simon wiped his tears with his palm, and before continuing, he tried to find his Hugh one more time.

He was still there.

Simon hadn’t yet given up on him, but he didn’t feel like telling him that at the moment.

For some reason.

“If Adrian wants to see me, tell him I’ll be at Kasumi’s.”

“Simon.” Hugh grabbed him by the wrist, and a simple wave from Simon’s hand was enough to get it off. Way too easy, for a person who happened to have super-strength. “Simon, please. Don’t do this again. Please. SIMON!”

But Simon did it again anyway.

Later, he wondered what Adrian had felt when he abducted Max from the hospital and left a note for them.

He also wondered what everyone else had felt when the real Nightmare showed up.

Not that he was mad at them.

He just wondered what they had felt.

[snickiebear]

Hello hello nadia, i’m in a leesaku mood today so pls indulge me with a three-sentence fic for this lil prompt “you are my best friend and I’ve known you platonically for years now but every time you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach” tysm ilyyyy ❤️❤️❤️❤️

haha... this is, two days late. NIASDUKDSK IM SO SORRY THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST YOURE THE BEST ILY

side note: this is.... kind of what you wanted? AND LMAO ITS NOT THREE SENTENCES AGAIN WHOOPS

side side note: this is now crossposted bc i liked it a lot tbh :")

a cocoon in the heart, a spark in the brain.

It starts with a glance. An innocent, fleeting look. Naruto’s smile is too bright to look at for more than a handful of seconds and Sasuke’s glare is too dark to find anything of interest, so Sakura glances away, as she always does.

She glances away and there is Lee, dirtied and bloodied but he holds Neji’s hand, Tenten tucked under his arm, and is laughing, tears streaming down his face. He must have felt her eyes because he looks over and sends her a beaming smile. 

And. And her heart picks up, her breath catches. 

She quickly looks over to Naruto and Sasuke, being blinded by the light and dark both, and tries her best to not think of why one look from Lee can breed butterflies and moths in her stomach. 

.

.

.

They rebuild the village and everyone endures. Sasuke leaves once more because he is a boy who has never known staying, he has never stayed long enough to put roots in, to know how to stay. So, Naruto and Sakura let him go. 

(If she is being honest, Sakura is more than happy to have him leave. Sasuke will always be a rotten fruit in the tangle of her feelings, something that she will never quite understand, something that will haunt her no matter what she does. If he is not there, she does not have to think about it. He’s like a curse, and it hurts her to think that but it is true.)

Kakashi is the Hokage and Sakura is still laughing at him, clutching her stomach and howling at her friend’s “misfortune” as he calls it.

“Mah,” Kakashi half drawls, half pleads. “Must you laugh at your poor ex-sensei?”

Naruto is losing his absolute shit as they clutch each other to stay standing. “Kaka-sensei you do not look good in white.”

“It,” Sakura gasps, wiping tears from her face, “It-It really washes you out!”

Naruto’s knees give out and they both tumble to the ground, a mess and tangle of laughing limbs and leaking eyes. 

Kakashi sighs heavily from his desk but she knows he’s having just as much fun as they are. Kakashi is her best friend, she knows how he is when he’s drunk out of his mind and when he’s trying to bite back laughter. 

The door swings open and Lee steps in with Team Gai flanking him. Neji recovered incredibly well thanks to Sakura’s magic hands (as Naruto has deemed them) and they’ve been taking low ranking missions since he was deemed fit to return to duty. 

It takes a few moments for Sakura and Naruto’s heaving, snorting laughter to subside as Kakashi clears his throat, his eyes crinkling up in the way Sakura knows he’s really trying not to laugh. 

She looks up and glances at Lee, to find him already watching her, his eyes soft and smile softer. Sakura is a God Slayer along with Naruto and Sasuke, she has faced down hundreds of opponents with only her raw fists and come up victorious, she has dragged people back from the brink of death with a tap. 

Sakura does not blush. Out right refuses to. 

“Hey,” All breathless and raw from laughter.

Lee’s smile widens as he steps forward to offer his hand, she takes it without hesitation and thanks the God whose heart she ripped out that he was wearing gloves. She can feel the heat through them nonetheless. Sakura does her best not to shiver as their eyes meet. 

“You guys heading in or out?” Naruto asks after he hauled himself onto his feet, not hiding the way he eyes Lee and Sakura’s hands. The entire room’s eyes are on them. 

“In,” Tenten says slowly, and Sakura does not blush as she carefully extracts her hand from Lees and does not think about why there are fireworks exploding within her mind, why she misses the heat and the way his hand encompasses hers. 

.

.

.

She sees him everywhere now. 

At the Rusty Kunai, at the training fields, at lunch, sometimes even in the hospital. And every damn time he smiles at her, she feels like she’s coming back to life and being stabbed in the heart. 

Sakura has no idea if this was love or just lust. What she felt for Sasuke was not love, that was obsession and cruelty. She had crushes on civilian boys but they were too soft, unmarred compared to her countless scars, visible or not. 

Ino stares at her as if she’s the stupidest person in the world and Sakura smacks her for it. She hopes it leaves a bruise. The Bitch. “Stop giving me that look, Pig. I’ll hit you again, don’t tempt me.”

Ino glares as she rubs her arm, sticking out her tongue. “It isn’t my fault you aren’t using that big forehead of yours! You’re telling me that you two drink together, train together, you go to lunch together, he even visits you at the hospital because he knows you haven’t eaten or slept. And then you tell me you get all those stupid fluttery feelings and you don’t know what it means?”

And well. When she puts it like that. . .

Sakura pouts and crosses her arms, “It's confusing!”

“You’re a genius. An actual genius, Sakura.” Ino deadpans. “Your IQ is literally right next to Shikamaru’s. Lee has been in love with you since we were twelve! There is no way you don’t know what this means.”

Groaning, Sakura slumps into Ino’s lap, hiding her face in Ino’s thigh. “When did you become so smart?”

“When I made out with Hinata and then fucked her.” Ino says easily and Sakura laughs. “What? Don’t laugh! It's true!” 

Ino cackles when Sakura pinches her calf.

.

.

.

Lee moves with such elegance that Sakura aches with it. 

This boy made man who had known nothing but sweat and hardship, who still cups things with such tender and care, who moves so fluidly and hits so brutally.  

They are both the earth, solid and unyielding, they are the water, the hills, the mountains. They are unbreakable because they have broken themselves apart, pushed themselves past the very limit to reach where they are.

Sakura and Lee are 20 and they have saved the world. 

Now, they tear apart the training grounds just to keep life interesting. 

With every dodged fist her heart quickens because Lee is smiling and laughing, calling friendly taunts as she grins right back. 

This is nothing like Team 7’s spars, all bloodied teeth and snarling as Sasuke underestimates her again and again and again. Kakashi, Sai, and Yamato know better. Naruto is learning slowly. Sasuke never pays attention enough to know.  

No, sparring with Lee is like dancing, is like thriving, and a fresh breath of air at night as fireworks light up the sky and a butterfly lands on your nose. 

She lands a kick to his ribs and spends him flying back as she advances swiftly, pinning him down with a hand on his chest, knees on either side of his hips. 

A long pause as they try to catch their breathes.

They’re both breathing heavily, Sakura cannot tear her eyes away from him as he reaches a hand to tuck loose hair behind her ear.

“Lee,” She breathes, ignoring the way her face burns and the way butterflies have swarmed her insides, how her heart is raging against her ribcage. “Lee I-”

“Sakura.” Lee says, voice deep and rumbly and cracking. “Sakura, will you go out to lunch with me? Forever. Well, hopefully forever- you are so very Youthful, you are incredibly Strong, you do not need my protection, but Sakura, let me protect you anyways, just as you will me. Sakura-”

She channels her inner Ino and leans down to kiss him, all lips, teeth and tongue. His hands settle on her waist and he flips them without breaking contact and if they weren’t in public, well. . .

Sakura pulls back breathless and wide eyes before forcing the words out, “I’ve known you for years Lee, you’re one of my best friends.” Her hand on his chest can feel the way his breath catches, the way his heart is pounding. “Everytime you look at me I get fireworks in my chest and butterflies in my stomach. They’ve bred and infested my very insides, my brain blooms and rots with the thought of you.” 

He is shaking beneath her, staring at her as if she is Divine and Righteous and she cannot think of anything else she would want except his eyes on her. 

“Lunch?” She breathes, hand at the base of his neck. “I would like to have lunch with you. Forever. If the offer still stands.” 

Lee smiles wide and bright as he stands, pulling Sakura up with him, “The offer will always stand, Sakura. For you, there is very little I would not do.”

She kisses him again and hand in hand they go to lunch.

Facts:

The very first day Lee saw Sakura a cocoon formed within his heart, everytime after that more would form, more would crack.

The butterflies and moths have a home in his heart but only come alive when they see her.

They never die, no matter what he does.

He saw her crack the world open with a first, saw her tear open a God’s chest. He was the first thing she looked at after. He thought he would become alight with it all.

Lee loves Sakura. He always has, he always will. His heart has a butterfly garden full of fireworks just for her.

Her laugh makes his skin prickle, makes his muscles loose. He is addicted to it.

She looks at him like she sees the green of the trees and the blue of the sky. Lee revels in it.

Sakura loves Lee and it nearly breaks him.

He will take her out to lunch until the day they die and well after.

The butterflies and moths and fireworks never go away for either of them. It is the beauty of it all.

[scullyy]

Afterglow

Pairing: Clementine x Louis

Word Count: 2k

Summary: Once the party has finished, the children sulk off to their rooms, worrying about the fight ahead. For Clementine and Louis, the night is still young.

A/N: welp….I was gone for longer than I thought. It was a nice break, I hadn’t realised how much I actually needed it. Despite that, I missed everyone, I missed being here. So I figured what way to come back than by posting a one-shot I’m high-key proud of?

Enjoy xx

-

Does the darkness have a name?

As AJ blew out the last candle, that’s all there was. Darkness. The odd ray of moonlight poured into the room, shining through the wooden beams covering the window. It was on all of their faces, shadows making them appear older. They all felt it, together. A sombre harmony.

Clementine watched her friends slink out of the room, whispering their goodnights. She noticed the gentle shake on Ruby’s shoulders, her hands held tightly together, trying to comfort her own mind. Tenn and Willy walked away together, thankful that their friendship wasn’t long gone, thankful for the pleasant distraction.

She wondered when it first appeared, this darkness. Had it crept into their lives as children? Already apart of the world long before they were ever born, or was it new? Festering on the decay and newfound rot. She pulled her jacket around herself, trying to conceal the darkness that was definitely within her.

She was so wound up in her brooding thoughts, she didn’t even notice the small presence beside her until he tugged at her pant leg. “Clem?” Her goofball looked up at her with tired, sunken eyes. “Can we go to bed?”

Clementine would have taken his little hand and gladly dream of lighter things if there still wasn’t someone in the room. Hiding away from the moonlight, wrapped up in more darkness than anyone, Louis. His hands now lay empty beside him, the keys on his dear piano lonely. A few minutes ago he was lighting up the room with his tune, capturing the attention of everyone. Now he hid away into himself, a form Clementine hadn’t seen from him before.

“You run off kiddo, I’ll be there soon,” Knowing he would want to stay by her side, she gave AJ a little push out the room, quickly waving goodbye until the door was shut completely. He was still so new, he didn’t understand what the darkness even was and why it won’t ever go away. She turned back to Louis, finding him now tracing the edge of the keys. The silence was haunting, he didn’t fit into it at all. “I can tell that something is on your mind.”

He inhaled deeply before answering. “I’m wondering what Violet is doing right now.”

Clementine froze on the spot, her feet attached to the muddy carpet only because he was brave enough to say what everyone was thinking. “I don’t know. If Lilly wants soldiers I’m sure she won’t hurt any of them.”

“Yeah, you might be right,” Rather he hoped she was. All of them; Aasim, Omar and Violet. This woman, Lilly, was so ruthless. Yet it exposed just how blind Louis was, how unsafe and vulnerable they had been this entire time. “How many more of us have to die before the dust finally settles?” Hearing Willy and Tenn list off the names of their old school mates unlocked memories Louis filed away, hoping to never tread across again. The kid they found chomped to bits by the river, the debate club president they found hanging from the basketball hoop, the girl Louis used to sit next to in art class was barely recognizable when the walkers left her by the river. Her neon purple socks being the only telling feature.

Clementine felt it again; that strange thump in her heart, out of tune with the rest of her body. If the darkness did have a name, she assumed it would be her own. Bringing death and war wherever she went; the motor inn, Marsh House, the cabin group, Howe’s Warehouse, hell even the Garcia’s. People ran or they died and Clem couldn’t decide which was worse. “We’re going to be okay-”

“You can’t promise that!” Louis whipped his head right at her, revealing the red veins popping in his glazed eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, pressing at the tight knots that never seemed to go away. “Sorry. I’m just scared. I’ll, uh..I’ll sleep it off, that should help.” This was everything.  His parent’s divorce. Marlons’ death. Violet’s, Omar and Aasims’ capture. Every shrapnel of pain, guilt and grief throwing him into the shallow end.

She knew it all too well. “Louis, you’re not going to bed,” Clementine recognised the look on his face, she had seen it on AJ countless times before and it always lead to nightmares and restlessness. She glanced inside the case for the classical record, finding another one inside, secretly hidden away. Lady luck was on her side for once. After setting it all up in the gramophone, she twirled over to him extending her hand. “Dance with me.”

He looked at her hand then back at her, trying to decipher what she was doing. “What?”

“C'mon, or can you not dance?”

She could see it, the darkness rolling off his shoulders like a wave lurching off a steady rock. A cheeky smile appeared on his face slowly, her Louis was shining through once again. The silly boy she had fallen for. “Oh, I can dance. I’m just not sure you’ll be able to keep up with me.” He hopped up, rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans. When did it get so hot in here?

Clem took a final step closer, their shoes now touching. “Then show me.” She breathed into his ear, enjoying her little sense of pride as the roaring moonlight exposed his flustered expression. No longer were his eyes hollow and empty, now returning to their glowing form.

The gramophone sprang to life as the song began to fill up the room, an entity all of its own as it seemed to brush away the dark clouds nesting around them. Or perhaps it was love, crawling under their skin as they slyly glanced at each other. Either way, what bliss.

I’ll be seeing you In all the old familiar places

Louis shook his head, trying to string together a sentence. “Let’s…uh, how do we start?” They readied their hands into the right position, even if it was entirely based on what they saw on tv as children; his hands crossed around her waist, hers snaked around his neck. “You want to stand on my feet?”

Clementine’s eyebrows pursed together, her nose crinkling. “Is that a short joke?”

He hummed it over, purposefully ignoring her stubborn gaze with a slight glint in his eye. “It is now.”

That this heart of mine embraces All-day and through

Louis twirled her around beneath their natural spotlight, letting the sparks from the moon push against the claws of the darkness. It fell away from their minds just as quickly as it took ahold of them. “Never took you for the dancing type.”

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me, Lou.”

In that small cafe The park across the way The children’s carousel

He pulled her in rather closely, placing his lips against the tip of her ear. “I look forward to finding out more then.”

The chestnut trees The wishing well

A fleet of giggles broke free from both of them as he twirled her for the umpteenth time. Clementine found the room still spinning once she was back in his arms but she didn’t mind, he was there to keep her close. He was the only thing she was certain of these days. “Told you we would have plenty of time for dates.”

Louis madly grinned from ear to ear. “This is another date? Damn, two in one day. I think that might be a new record.” His normally chipper voice had somehow reached a new level of glee, making her already frantically beating heart soak in the sound.

I’ll be seeing you In every lovely summer’s day In everything that’s light and gay I’ll always think of you that way

Clem bit at her lip, considering what exactly he had proposed. “I don’t think it is…”

“It is now, I decree it!” He sang out loud in his typical fashion.

She rolled her eyes, a common reaction to his quips. But unlike the other kids, Clem was still smiling. “You can’t just make up new records, there’s a system, it takes time.”

“Of course I can!” He twirled her with a tad more ferocity this time, letting her get distracted from the silly debate as she couldn’t help but squeal, her feet at frantic work to keep her level.

I’ll find you in the morning sun And when the night is new

Louis pulled her in closer than they originally were before, gazing down at her. His eyes softer, radiating warmth. A warmth she hadn’t seen in another human for quite a while.

“Time doesn’t exist anymore.”

Clementine gently patted his shoulder, returning to her original stance. “Let’s just get through tomorrow, then we can discuss our future.”

Their future.

I’ll be looking at the moon But I’ll be seeing you

Their future could be anything; her wish was his law. Anything she wanted or desired for the chance to show her he could be it all. He could be hers and she could be his and they could be together and it would work.

As if he wasn’t already hers the moment she graced his lowly life with her presence.

I’ll be seeing you In every lovely summer’s day

“Ow!”

“Sorry!”

“Maybe I should stand on your feet.” Clementine huffed as she attempted to shake the pain out of her foot. The heel of his boot was a lot harder than she had considered, then again she never gave his shoes much thought. Not when there were other more charming factors about him to focus on.

In everything that’s light and gay

His eyes shot down to his feet, watching carefully with every step he took. “Maybe I’m not that good at dancing.” There was no beat or melody to their odd little dance, their feet just stepping wherever and however.

I’ll always think of you that way

Gently placing her finger beneath his chin, she raised his head back up, forcing their eyes to meet. “You’re not too bad, we’ll just have to practice.”

“Oh ho ho! Practice? More dates? I like the sound of that!”

I’ll find you in the morning sun

She considered her next words carefully, not wanting to burst this enchanted bubble they had made. “It means you can’t die on me tomorrow.”

Louis almost didn’t hear her over the music, until the words settled and the weight of it clicked. It was there; death and the darkness that came with it. Not just for the war they were about to embark on, but every day after that too. “You can’t die on me either. This is a two way street.”

And when the night is new

She knew the weight of these two simple words, yet declared them anyway. “I promise.”

His much larger arms clung to her much smaller waist and gently dipped her to the floor, her hat tumbling down, though neither of them cared. She clung onto his shoulders tightly, her nails digging into his warm coat, wondering if he was trembling the same way she was. “Me too.” He promised, with nothing but love on the mind.

Their eyes remained linked; copper melting with bronze. The darkness had sulked away, letting the moment remain in a light bliss shared by the two. A new, hopeful harmony.

I’ll be looking at the moon But I’ll be seeing you

[generic-usernumber6601]

@gay-vampire-with-a-violin remember that creepy list about abandoned churches that I said id write stuff on? This is that.

Tanner stared at the list, unsure wether to laugh or burn the offending paper. Some old man on the street saw him up by the church, and snuck up on him. Tanner thought it weird how he didn’t hear the man, and how he had just handed him the list with no questions and no answers. He turned around the corner of the outside wall of the church and was gone.

Studying the list again, Tanner found a few holes. How was that man to know that sleeping in the church after sunrise would poop Tanner in another dimension? The man was very much still in this one, so he had to have not slept there past sunrise. Even then, if he had, he came back so that part would be untrue too. Tanner walked around the back of the building, looking for any holes as he kept scanning the list again.

Most of them didn’t make sense. Don’t sleep on a pew. Don’t bring wine. Don’t bring a flashlight. Reading things doesn’t work? Books can’t be altered so they’re blank, or so their languages are wrong after they're published! What was so wrong with wine and pews? How did that man know to give this list to him?

Tanner shoved the list in his backpack, frustrated at the little amount of sense it made to him. He found a hole in the massive brick wall of the church shortly after, just big enough for him to squeeze through.

In the church, a shadow danced with joy. A new victim. A new plaything. The shadow watched the newcomer with great interest as he stepped through the wall and into what was once the back hallways. It smiled, and followed along.

Walking down the hallway, Tanner found himself at a stairway. He could either go upstairs, downstairs, or turn around. The light from the hole was dimming, so he dropped his travel bag to the floor, pulling out a flashlight and a map of the building he was able to snatch from the local shop. Flicking his flashlight on, Tanner got a look at the dirt and layer of dust that covered everything. The concrete of the stairs leading downward was cracking, leaving its stability in question. The wood of the stairs leading up was rotted and smelled of mold, and one foot on the bottom step told Tanner all he needed to know; Danger.

Tanner spun around and walked the other direction, hoping to find a way to the other floors that didn’t involve questionable stairs. Passing the hole he came through, his flashlight darted to a door, coming off of its hinges and a dirty stained glass window at the top of it. Wood rot was set into the door, and what was supposed to be its twin was on the floor in shambles, as if someone had thrown something through it.

The shadow watched from the ceiling inside what was once where services were held. It smiled to itself as it watched the man climb through the door, looking at the bowl of once-holy-water. ’Touch it‘ the demon thought, not wanting to spoil its presence to the newcomer yet.

Tanner was disgusted at how the water looked. Filled with leaves, grass, worms and mold, the dish holding it couldn’t be seen below the filth. He drew back, wanting to throw up. The rest of the room wasn’t much better, with holes in the roof and walls. Some collapsed areas ruined pieces of art, the podium where a priest would once stand, and the pews dotting the room. The pews that weren’t collapsed were rotted, and a squirrel ran across Tanner’s field of vision.

What Tanner didn’t see was the shadow eating the squirrel whole, and advancing towards him.

In the distance, an organ plays it’s melody, haunting but sweet. The demon smiled, making itself known.

Tanner didn’t like the organ sounds. They were nice, but he was supposed to be alone. He hadn’t heard anyone else enter, but maybe they’d entered through another way?

Tanner turned around, and saw a being of pure black. The only reason Tanner could comprehend that it was even there is because he could see bright colored clothes on the beast. Terrified, Tanner turned around and ran, looking at the ground.

He hit a wall and fell backwards, his head pounding. As he was losing consciousness, Tanner could hear the sound of many people laughing, their voices reverberating off of the church walls.

[whiskeycoloredhair]

“Looking for something?” from the Late Night Wanderings meme!

It was a restless night were he kept wandering all over London. Selling himself to gay men. Buying and using opium drops. Avoiding police officers and people in general. For some reason he searched his way to the graveyard. It wasn’t the first time he walked among the graves at the witching hours. Still it was chilling to be there at night. The silence was deafening. Darkness as long as the eye could see. Haunting shadows from gravestones and the iron fence surrounding it. A creaking sound heard as he slowly opened the gate. It made him jump a little while he quickly looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. No one as far as he could see. Though it was possible someone could be in hiding. There were bushes and thick trees in certain places. Also, someone could be hiding inside the church itself. Or behind one of the bigger gravestones. He knew people visiting a graveyard at night normally didn’t have the best intentions. Grave robbers, body snatchers or other shady businesses. Maybe even murder. Not that he had such intentions himself but it still made him extremly nervious and paranoid. Making his imagination flare up. In every corner he thought of vampires or ghosts even though he didn’t really believe such things existed.  He searched among the gravestones and found the fresh grave which belonged to the latest victim. Seeing fresh dirt made it more real. He was actually gone. It did actually happen. Not even the opium high could numb the icy feeling that filled his stomach. Then burning rage that made his eyes flood with tears. Julian read the inscription outloud. “Jeremiah Walken, beloved son and husband.” So he was married? Did she know about his sadistic hobbies? About the company he searched? “You destroyed my life.” He whispered and looked at the flowers. “You and everyone else.” His voice filled with spite. Hands became shaking.fists.“I hope you rot in hell, you sick bastard.” It was so tempting to destroy the grave. Crushing the flowers and dig out the coffin to destroy the body once again. But he didn’t do any of that. Don’t disturb the dead. It was something his mother would have said, ‘If you piss on a grave, god will piss on you in turn’. He laughed at the thought. God had pissed on him since his birth. The laughing died as he kept staring at the grave with mixed emotions. At least Jeremiah wouldn’t be able to hurt him or others again.  The second grave he visited belonged to Katherine Redwood. He grimased at the inscription, ‘Beloved daughter wife and mother’. Even though he’d seen it before it still annoyed him to see such kind descriptions. “You vile woman.” That was all he said before leaving the grave. If she was as vile at home he had freed those poor children. Maybe they didn’t even mourn their mother as people normally would.  As he started his familiar route he could already feel the tears well up again. He took out a yellow flower from his pocket and felt how much his fingers trembled. “My love, I’m coming for you.” He whispered softly. Though he didn’t get far when a voice was heard somewhere behind him. Making him stop moving. Eyes widened as he recognised said voice. A voice he really didn’t expect to hear again. At least not here at this time. Was he followed here? For how long? How much had the other seen or heard. Did he suspect anything? He must have been reckless. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm down. Making his expression more relaxed. Slowly. Ever so slowly he turned. ”My goodness you scared me.” He chuckled and placed a hand at his chest.  ”I was just searching for my mother’s grave and then I saw these fresh graves.”  Yes. It was him. The young noble that entered the bookstore not long ago. A meeting that still made him anxious everytime he came to work. Scared that he would return. ”And what are you doing here at this hour sir?”

[hillbillied]

Hillbilly and 49?

Send me a prompt with a character/pairing. 49. “I’m a level 72 Rogue and if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it and I will kill you.”

Andy assume Eddie’s cheating on him.

Well, he doesn’t assume. It’s the first thought to occupy his mind. It’s dissuaded by everything he knows about the man, falling away with the comfortable knowledge that his tall, handsome boyfriend would never do that to him. Or be able to hide it. Or hide in such a pathetically comical way.

This line of thinking dissuades all the other Worst Case Scenarios. It’s not infidelity, or some kind of addiction (Eddie’s not sneaking crack and anything less he’d share). It’s not secret party planning (Eddie hates those) or a previously-unknown child (the day Eddie trips into a straight relationship is the day Reagan rises from his grave to proclaims gay rights).

Andy’s left to wonder; what occupies Eddie’s Thursday evenings? Where does he disappear to until the early hours, wearing one of his ‘fancy’ shirts? (His description. They’re neat short-sleeved numbers, casual with nice patterns.) What has him crawling into bed with flushed cheeks from grinning too hard, kissing Andy’s temple and holding him tightly?

It must be something unusual, otherwise Andy would know. Eddie’s a private man, but an honest one. Andy lies awake on Thursday evenings, his latest novel left to rot on the bedside cabinet. He used to enjoy the time to himself; now, it haunts him. When he asks, Eddie says he’s goes to see some “friends.” He rubs the back of his neck as he says it, so Andy knows that’s not the whole truth. He doesn’t have the heart to pry further.

One haunting Thursday, Andy gets a phone call. Eddie’s been gone about half an hour.

It’s Elmo Haney and he sounds pissed. “Yeah, Ed forgot a bunch of shit we need for tonight’s game.” Gunny explains. He pulls away from the phone for a moment to distinctly call ‘yeah, fucker, I’m givin’ him the story’. He returns to an excited Andy. “And he won’t call ‘cause he’s being a little bitch about it. But it’ll take you half the time to swing by here.”

Andy is embarrassed by how giddily he cries “Of course!”. Elmo doesn’t comment, just describes what he needs to bring. It’s stashed in a wardrobe shoebox. Andy studies it on the drive over; several game books (cellophane wrap sill present), some elaborate dice, and pieces of a large wooden map. Those last bits are handmade, which explains Eddie’s time in the garage of late.

Eddie meets him at Haney’s door. He’s sucking on a cigarette like this is some kind of deathly serious exchange. Andy’s face-splitting grin only makes Hillbilly’s pained expression cut deeper into his features.

“So,” Andy says, searching for the right words, “It’s… Dungeons and Dragons?”

After a single sigh, the Eddie he knows and loves returns; cold stare and gruff statements.  “I’m a level 72 Rogue.” He says. “An’ if y’tell anyone, I’ll deny it.” It’s not enough of a threat, so he adds; “An’ I will kill you.”

Andy’s smile beams with pride more than amusement. (There’s still a lot of amusement.) “Well, have fun.” He chuckles, “I love you.” He turns to leave but Eddie stops him. 

“Y’gotta come inside.” He says. Andy’s grin softens. He doesn’t want Eddie to feel he has to share everything. Hillbilly see this, rolls his eyes, and adds; “Gunny said y’gotta.”

“When did Gunny Haney ever tell you what to do?” Andy asks. He receives an unimpressed scoff from Hillbilly as if he should know better.

“Gunny’s the DM, darlin’.”

[poemsforpersephone]

The third and final book rec list for fans of The Last Sun!

The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen has really cool empathy powers which, although not the two way bond Brand and Rune share, does remind me of the emotion reading aspect in TLS. The m/m relationship in it is also super sweet. 

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzie Lee. This one I’m recommending because the protagonist is a snarky asshole just like Rune, and the writing style is so well done. It’s m/m and genuinely such a fun and quirky book. Also the cover art is gorgeous!

Silver in the wood by Emily Tesh. This is an LGBT novella where a wild man called Tobias lives in a place called “Greenhollow,” , where, and I quote, “Old secrets better left buried are dug up, and Tobias is forced to reckon with his troubled past—both the green magic of the woods, and the dark things that rest in its heart.” So im recommending this one simply because of the involvement of secrets and troubled pasts haha. 

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir. The front cover of this one gives me The Hanged Man vibes like, all the way to the bone, which is initially what prompted me to rec it on this list. But also: “Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead bullshit.” Idk about the dirty magazines but the rest of it scREAMS Rune. and the main character is a lesbian!!! yay!! 

The Black Veins by Ashia Monet. “In a world where magic thrives in secret city corners, a group of magicians embark on a road trip—and it’s the "no-love-interest", found family adventure you’ve been searching for.” It’s like someone looked into my heart and picked out my deepest desire and then wrote it and gave it life. This book is super diverse and super awesome. 

The Deathless Girls by Kiran Millwood Hargrave is a f/f take on Dracula basically. I’m recommending it because the main character and her sister go through a traumatic event similar to the loss of the sun court, when men come and burn their home to the ground along with their people and they’re captured and taken as slaves. It’s about family, friendship and survival, and it’s beautiful. 

The Never Tilting World by Rin Chupeco. An LGBT book where climate change deniers are the villains? ... you have my atttention. 

Prosper’s Demon by K.J. Parker. This is about a morally questionable exorcist!  It’s a satirical, interesting take on the topic of possession with a kick ass cover. 

The Wishing Heart by J.C Welker. An LGBT fantasy novel where our protag, Rebel, finds a jinni’s vessel and is thus thrust into a whole new world of trying to keep said jinni from everyone else and find a way to free her! The world building is awesome and so are the characters.

Tarnished are the Stars by Rosiee Thor. “A secret beats inside Anna Thatcher's chest: an illegal clockwork heart. Anna works cog by cog -- donning the moniker Technician -- to supply black market medical technology to the sick and injured, against the Commissioner's tyrannical laws.” i have the hardbook version of this and the cover??? is so?? beautiful.

The Weight of the Stars by K. Ancrum. TALKING OF PRETTY COVERS. “Ryann Bird dreams of traveling across the stars. But a career in space isn’t an option for a girl who lives in a trailer park on the wrong side of town. So Ryann becomes her circumstances and settles for acting out and skipping school to hang out with her delinquent friends.”

Predatory by Brooklyn Ray. WERELEOPARDS FRIENDS!!!! god damn wereleopards im?? so happy. m/m 

The Lost Coast by Amy Rose Capetta. FOUND FAMILY QUEER WITCHES. need i say more. 

Portraits of a Faerie Queen by Tay LaRoi. The fey run amok in this one! f/f with a gorgeous front cover.

Unbroken by Brooklyn Ray. step 1: rent haunted house. step 2: fall in love with witch-turned-demon who inhabits it. step 3: profit???

The High King’s Golden Tongue by Megan Derr. This one is lovely! Nice world building with an emphasis on languages and kingdoms, and a lovely m/m romance that builds from kind-of-enemies-but-not-really to lovers. the audiobook of this is great. 

Salt Magic, Skin Magic by Lee Welch. SORRY YOUR BOOK IS SET WHERE? MY HOMELAND? MY COUNTRY MY COUNTY MY HEART? we never get any attention imma go cry in the corner. its a historical fantasy m/m romance in YORKSHIRE gosh im here for it. And let me tell you... this is one fantastic book. I really, really enjoyed it.

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner. fantasy, m/m, lotsa swords!

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst. f/f fantasy with a princess who has fire magic in a kingdom where magic is forbidden! 

Freedom’s Fate by Jennie Taylor. SPAAAAAAACE i love books in space.

Pegasi and Prefects by Eleanor Beresford. “Charley's final year at Fernleigh Manor is complicated by a runaway pegasus, unwanted Games Captainship, a dangerous new rival and, most of all, falling head over heels in love with another girl. What is a reluctant Senior Prefect to do?” catch me while i swoon.

The Necromancers Dance by SJ Himes. m/m vampire/necromancer romance, urban magic and fantasy, very fun and smooth read, a little bit insta love but not totally. 

The Star Host by F.T. Lukens. “Ren grew up listening to his mother tell stories about the Star Hosts – a mythical group of people possessed by the power of the stars.” a m/m fantasy book set to a sci fi fantasy background.

Empty Vessels by Nicholas Williams. “Lucas Mahler babysits clones all day, but he's trapped under the legacy of his body-builder father and his genius girlfriend. When Lucas tries to rise above, he's murdered. Waking up in the body of a clone, Lucas embarks on a mystery full of blood, old friends and lost loves.” idk the whole clone thing in this just always reminds me of lord tower making all the different fake versions of people he knows lmao. 

BOOKS NOT YET OUT

So, the thing is. 2020 is very close friends, and some awesome books are even closer. These below are books I’ve not read yet, since they’re not out and I am a poor ARCless girl, but they’re books you definitely want to keep an eye on.

Witches of Ash and Ruin by E. Latimer. Bisexual OCD protagonist who is a witch D: its everything i could want. 

Wild Sky by Zaya Feli. LGBT fantasy with dragons! It sounds so, so fun.

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust. “A captivating and utterly original fairy tale about a girl cursed to be poisonous to the touch, and who discovers what power might lie in such a curse...”

The Fascinators by Andrew Eliopulos. “The Raven Boys meets Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, about an openly gay high school senior in small-town Georgia.” m/m fantasy which looks super sweet.

Cemetery Boys by Auden Thomas. “Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can’t get rid of him.” THIS SOUNDS SO COOL oh my god. Yes PLEASE. 

When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey. “A sly, witchy dark comedy about four teens whose magic goes wildly awry.” Magic, darkness, comedy, what’s not to love for fans of the tarot sequence??

The Extraordinaries by T.J. Klune. I absolutely love T.J.  Klune’s writing so I can’t wait to get my hands on this. m/m superheros!! friends!!! get excited!! I think anyone who likes how witty K.D. is will enjoy this writing style. 

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune. YES ANOTHER ONE this looks so good too we are BLESSED. “A magical island. A dangerous task. A burning secret.”

Fragile Remedy by Maria Ingrande Mora. “Sixteen-year-old Nate is a GEM—Genetically Engineered Medi-tissue created by the scientists of Gathos City as a cure for the elite from the fatal lung rot ravaging the population. As a child, he was smuggled out of the laboratory where he was held captive and into the Withers—a quarantined, lawless region.” The idea of the Withers kind of reminds me of the westlands.

The Fell of Dark by Caleb Roehrig. UHM im always here for lgbt vampires in young adult fantasy fiction. The author says that “this book is gay and filled with monsters” which also fits the last sun so i figured it belongs on the list lmao. 

Ruinsong by Julia Ember. “In a world where magic is sung, a powerful mage named Cadence is forced to use her power to torture her country’s disgraced nobility at her ruthless queen’s bidding.”

[the-queen-of-the-light]

Supercorp Haunted House AU

But not in the way you’d expect ....

The town that Lena goes to boarding school in is old and has a lot of history. Aka it might be kinda haunted. At least that’s what all the other kids tried to tell her when she transferred. She always just assumed scaring her was another way that they were trying to pick on her. Always so creative, the lot of them.

Out at the edge of town though, there was this one old house hidden from view by dense woods, and passersby could only catch a slight glimpse of it at just the right angle from the old cobblestone road that ran past it. No one would dare step closer off the path. It was especially haunted, or so Lena’s dorm mates said. The locals never went near it. Never even acknowledged it was there. Safer that way.

But during the fall of the year, before Lena took her A-levels, something changed. A low murmuring began among the locals about the house. She heard it when she’d wander into town to head to the bookstore. Something’s awoken in that house. Lena, of course, didn’t put much stock in it. Her dorm mates though, they went wild, constantly telling stories of how they’d hear banging and wailing coming from inside the house whenever they wandered past. Even one girl, who’d been brave enough to sneak out at night to take a peek, claimed she’d seen strange eerie glowing coming from between the trees.

Lena knew they were just bullshitting her. They had to be. 

She was almost a little hurt because she’d thought after all the years she’d been there that they’d at least moved past picking on her—even if they still didn’t necessarily get along with them all.

Somehow though—Lena still isn’t entirely certain how her argument against the existence of ghosts and spirits and demons and the whole lot had gotten so twisted around on her—she finds herself here at dusk, standing in the middle of a semi-circle of her dorm mates urging her towards the tree line shielding the house.

If she was so confident, then prove it—they’d dared her.

So here she is, regretting her earlier stubbornness because honestly, all potential ghosts aside, a house abandoned to time for lord knows how many decades—possibly even centuries—couldn’t be structurally sound. Certainly it wouldn’t safe for her to spend the entire night in the house, haunted or not.

Yet her Luthor pride and willfulness wouldn’t let her back down from the dare even if she logically knows the dangers. So she slowly makes her way up to the house, using her phone as a flashlight and hoping that the door will be chained up and leave her with an excuse that won’t wound her pride too severely.

Instead, she finds a fair amount of shattered windows, others covered by rotting wooden boards, and worst of all, the front door cracked, the knob and locking mechanism having been torn completely from their casing.

A growing ball of anxiety settles in her chest, and as she turns to look back towards the road she’d come from, she sees nothing. Her dorm mates had left, taking her bike with them. She hopes that they’ll return with it in the morning at the very least and that she won’t have to walk the miles back to campus by herself.

Behind her through the cracked door, Lena hears a soft sob. Distant, but distinct. Nothing like the wailing one would expect given the ghost stories circulating around town. An abandoned baby some claimed. A child victim of the home’s last owners others said. A housewife held against her will in the cellar was the most recent she’d heard. All fantastical and tragic, and none of them true, she was quite sure. But that didn’t make the cries coming from the supposedly empty house any less concerning.

Despite it, she pushes on, the door creaking open, and at the sound, the gentle sobs fall silent. Lena freezes, fearing what may be waiting inside. But as she peeks around the door, she sees nothing, just a decrepit entryway that had seen better years. The thick layer of dust coating every surface muffles the sound of her footsteps, but judging by the trails of footprints clear of any dust, she isn’t the only visitor recently.

Maybe other stupid kids like herself—and she rarely classified herself as stupid but right in this moment she knew it to be true—venturing into a ‘haunted’ house. Maybe a lost camper or a homeless person in need of shelter. All she knows, judging by the sniffling she can hear coming from behind the door to her left, is that she’s not alone in the house and she really, absolutely, most certainly should turn right around and walk back to campus immediately.

Instead, she turns towards the door. Logic and reason scream at her to do the exact opposite and return to safety especially when, at the creak of the old floorboards beneath her feet, the delicate sniffling stops, and a faint hum and ominous glow come from under the door. But curiosity gets the best of her. Curiosity and something akin to empathy born from the lonely tears she’d heard. So she does the exact opposite of reason and pushes the door open.

…. And finds pushed back against the far corner of the room, a small slip of a girl close to her age—blonde and thin, dressed all in white that looks ragged and dusty—curled in on herself as she holds her limbs as close to herself as possible. But most curious of all, in an already extremely curious situation, are the girl’s glowing blue eyes.

Literally glowing.

The adrenaline high must have gotten the best of her because she definitely passes out. She awakens to find the girl much closer now. She’s hovering over her with concerned and significantly less glowing eyes.

Although Lena can’t control her gay enough not to admit that despite the lack of glow, they still had a pretty twinkle to them.

[trashmcuths-a]

‘i hate everybody’ starter                  @kspbrked

    thing is, richie should, theoretically, be fine. the kid-eating clown that haunted his childhood is dead -- for real this time. he can still feel the unpleasant squish of a beating heart between his fingers. the best friends he ever had are back in his life, filling up the rotting, cavernous hole inside of him. he’s out. finally. came out on twitter in real tozier fashion. ‘just checking in to say i’m not dead, just really gay.’ he followed that up by, ‘i’m not fucking with you. jesus. what do i gotta do? blow your dad on stage? fine. tell him to whip it out and i’ll go to fucking town.’ he’s back to performing. this time, he’s writing his own shit, which actually makes doing stand-up fun again. like, he doesn’t feel sick to his stomach whenever he walks off stage. his demographic is shifting from misogynistic frat boys to a pretty diverse group of people that don’t give him a debilitating migraine when they open their mouths. life should be good, right? like, he should be happy, doing cartwheels down sunset boulevard. he’s living his truth or whatever. 

    except the hole is still there, twenty years of loneliness and self-hatred still eating away at him like an infection. the first month or two after derry felt great, best high richie ever had. then, the inevitable comedown hit. most nights, richie wakes up screaming. always takes him a minute to realize that he’s covered in sweat and not eddie’s blood. during the day, the smallest shit can set him off. then he’ll zone out and find himself back in the cistern, watching helplessly as eddie hovers over him, blood pouring out his mouth. his drinking is steadily increasing, and he spends most nights blitzed out of his mind. recently, he hopped back on the benzo express. steve nearly popped the vein in his forehead when he found a bottle of klonopin in richie’s dressing room.

    so, richie is far from fine, and knowing he should be fine makes him feel even worse, like a spoiled kid who refuses to recognize all the good shit in their life. but, instead of reaching out, he isolates. his responses to the losers’ group chat are slim to none. he keeps bailing on plans to meet-up. when one of them calls, he rarely picks up the phone. bev leaves concerned voicemails, but richie swears up and down that he’s just “busy.” mostly, he just doesn't want to burden them with his failures or see the disappointment in their eyes when they realize what a fucking mess he is. but there’s also a part of him, a real shameful part, that kinda hates them. ‘cause bill has audra and is in the middle of writing another book. bev and ben are off being ridiculously in love, doing rich people shit, probably fucking at least five times a day. mike keeps sending photos from his many travels, talkin’ about what an amazing adventure he’s on. eddie is - well, from what richie has gathered, eddie is making some sort of effort to fix his fucking life. that’s more than richie can say. so, they’re all happy. most of them are in love. the losers are somehow fucking fine, while richie is inherently broken and, therefore, not fine at all.

    he’s on tour now, a welcome distraction, and currently performing for a relatively small venue in new york. the show is going well until richie spots eddie halfway through and falls silent mid-sentence. the audience rumbles with confusion, probably expecting another breakdown. not that richie notices. his eyes go wide, mouth falling open, and he forgets how to fucking breathe. their eyes meet for, like, a millisecond before richie looks away so fast that his neck cracks in a way that should warrant concern. “oof, bet you fucks thought you were in for a real show tonight, huh? yeah, i see you over there, lookin’ all heartbroken. i get it. witnessing a celebrity breakdown is way more interesting than hearing a middle-aged man wax poetic about his gay awakening for an hour and a half, but life is full of disappointments,” he says, then shifts back into the bit. the rest of the show is a blur. thank god he knows the routine well enough that going on auto-pilot is an option. sure, his performance is gonna suffer, but, if he doesn’t switch the fuck off, there’s a good chance he’ll start blowing chunks on stage. again.

    christ, why is eddie here? richie never invited him or even told him about the show, and eddie sure as shit didn’t give any notice. none of the losers mentioned anything. must be a surprise. shit, shit, shit. no way can eddie see him, like actually see him. no fucking way. out of all the losers, eddie is the very last person that needs to see the real richie.

    once the set ends, he half-jogs off stage, desperate to be literally anywhere else. he needs to not be sharing the same air as eddie kaspbrak. steve is talking in his ear, but richie waves him off. “i’m going to the bar. the one just down the street. call me tomorrow.” he pauses, eyebrows knitting together as if he’s deep in thought. “no earlier than noon, steve-o.” his manager shoots a disapproving look, but says nothing. steve is all about picking his battles, knows when richie is gonna be most receptive. they’re definitely gonna have the 'you need to slow down, rich’ talk sometime this week. fan-fucking-tastic.

    slipping out of a venue is always hit-or-miss. if a fan spotted him, game over. they would ask for a selfie or some shit. richie would oblige, ‘cause these new fans are usually really fucking sweet and turning them down feels like the equivalent of kicking a puppy. but one selfie always leads to dozens more, and he’d end up standing out in the cold for at least an hour. and, like, he usually could care less, but he refuses to risk running into eddie. fortunately, no one seems to recognize him. thank christ. richie digs his hands into his pockets, using the collar of his coat and a knit cap to obscure his identity, and power-walks his way to the bar. 

    once inside, richie makes a beeline for the bartender. he asks for the strongest drink in the place and downs the glass in one go. the burn momentarily distracts him from all the shit knocking around in his skull. he throws back another drink before catching the eye of some good-looking, twenty-something motherfucker that’s obviously making a pass. richie has a feeling the dude recognizes him and probably just wants to fuck around for the novelty of touching a sort-of celebrity’s dick, but he never sees that as much of a deterrent. since coming out, hook-ups are on the rise, ‘cause now he doesn’t have to worry about getting caught. everyone already knows, so he can get blown by this dude in a dirty bathroom stall if he damn-well pleases. and, like, sure, it might have something to do with the inescapable loneliness he feels. maybe he just needs a stranger to grip his hips and stick a tongue down his throat, so he can, for a second, imagine that someone actually fucking loves him. maybe he has a particular someone in mind. maybe he thinks about that particular someone the entire fucking time and hates himself the second it’s over, because that someone doesn’t want him like that and would probably be repulsed if he knew.

     and maybe richie is gonna fuck this guy anyway. he starts making his way over, but stops when he feels someone grab his arm. richie whirls around and --

    "oh shit.”

[artificialqueens]

Now With Moving Parts (Trixya) - OkayMary

Trixie and Katya are neighbors and best friends. Trixie is celebrating her 13th birthday, trying to impress the popular girls. When she makes a wish that comes true, she struggles with her new life while trying to hold on to her past.

Guys it’s basically just 13 Going on 30 but gay.

Read and Comment on AO3

Picture day, 2002. Trixie sat timidly on a stool in the middle of her school’s cafeteria. She was placed in front of a backdrop painted to look like the sky. She had her heart set on wearing her favorite pink velour tracksuit that she worked hard to bedazzled a T on all by herself. Her mom, however, had other plans. She made her wear this itchy pink and purple striped sweater her grandma knitted her for last Christmas.

The fact that she had to change her outfit last minute left her no time to do her hair. She had to settle for her day old curls that hung around her face, slightly frizzy and flat in some spots. She pinned back some of the front pieces, just keep it out of her face.

“Okay little lady, I’ll take your ticket.” The camera man said walking up to Trixie. He adjusted her seating and posture before returning to his camera. “Now, look right up at the camera, okay? Nice smile. Here we go Tracy 1, 2…”

“It’s Trixie.”

“Look over here, Tracy”

“It’s Trixie!” –CLICK! And just like that, Trixie’s school photo was taken.

“Oh god, I can’t be remembered looking like this.” Trixie grabbed her photos from the table outside the cafeteria. She’s looks mad, her hair was wild and the sweater looked just as itchy as it felt. Not really the Barbie dream girl she was hoping to look like.

She started walking down the hall, sulking, when a small and energetic blonde came up behind Trixie with camera in hand. She slung her arm around Trixie’s shoulder, pulled her close and took a photo of the two of them.

“Smile Trix!”

“Ugh, Katya, no more photos today.” Trixie hid her photos against her body and looked down in shame, not even wanting to ask Katya about her photos.

Katya wore a shirt that said “I’m a Woman’ on it and red pants with white pinstripes. Her long blonde hair cascaded down in effortless waves. She’s so pretty without trying and it makes Trixie so mad and even jealous sometimes.

“Oh come on, it’s your 13th birthday. You’re never going to be this young and perky again. We gotta document it.” Katya is bouncing next to Trixie as they stand in front of lockers lining the school hall.

The hall clears a path and a group of girls make their way toward Trixie and Katya.

“Hey Farrah” Trixie says to the girl at the front of the pack. She’s like a tiny Christina Aguilera. If she could do a full Dirrty look, Trixie’s sure she would but they’re in 8th grade and not even Farrah is that bold.

“Hi Mattel. So how’d yours come out?” She replied, gesturing toward the photo in Trixie’s hands.

“Oh yeah, can’t say they’re my favorite.” Trixie keeps the photos hidden against her body.

“Yeah, mine aren’t so hot either. I could do better”

“Shut up Farrah, you look like a model!” One of her minions, Valentina, reply.

“Trix, I’ll meet you out front.” Katya rolled her eyes and pushed through the crowd. Katya may be just as pretty as the popular girls but she would never be a part of their group. They thought she was weird and Katya thought they we’re basic robots.

“Anyway, Trixie could I talk to you a tiny sec?” Farrah pulled Trixie away from the rest of the group.

“So I told Bob that me and the Dolls were going to your party and he said he wanted to come with. It’s really too bad we can’t make it because we really wanted to be there, didn’t we girls” Farrah turns to her friends who are all nodding in agreement.

“It’s just, Ms. Davis is really up our butts with this group project and Bob is going to help so he can’t go either.”

“Well, if it’s really that much of a problem, I could write your report for you.” Trixie offers up.

“Thanks gorge!” Farrah waves and walks away with her friends in tow.

Trixie met Katya outside of the school and they started their walk home together, just like they do everyday.

 “Honestly Trixie, I can’t believe you invited that witch and her flying monkeys to your party.”

 “Katya, they’re kinda my friends. Or at least one day I’ll be part of that group so maybe you should start being nicer.”

 “Gross, I will absolutely do no such thing. They don’t appreciate my amazing fashion sense or my stunning resemblance to Julia Roberts so they’re basically dead to me.”

 “I just want to be one of the cool girls Katya, can you just let me have that?” The two them stop in front of their homes that sat side by side.

 “They are unoriginal Trix, like dumb, poorly programed robots. You are the cool one.” Katya pulled a bag of candy out of her jacket pocket, “Would you like some Razzles?”

 “Will you leave me alone if I say yes” Trixie giggled and held her hand out.

 Katya poured some Razzles into Trixie’s hand before crossing the drive way toward her house.

 “Da svidania!” Katya yelled from her yard while snapping one last photo of Trixie.

 “Au revoir!” Trixie replied before heading into her house next door.

Trixie sat in her mirror applying more pink blush to her cheeks, double checking the wings of her eyeliner and making sure her curls sat just right around her face. She had Dolly Parton playing on her TV in the background, bopping about to the music as she got ready for her party. Maybe a little inspired by Dolly, Trixie stuffed a handful of tissues down the top of her sparkly pink dress to make her boob look like they actually exist.

 “Hey, sweetie! Happy birthday!” Her mom barges in her room with balloons. How’s your new life as a teenager? Is this blush? Are you wearing a bra?”

 “God mom, you’re being so embarrassing! Get out!” Trixie shouted before flopping herself face down into her bed. “I look rotted. I hate my life.”

 Trixie’s mom sits next to Trixie on her bed, “Bee, you’re not rotted, whatever that means. You’re beautiful in your own way. Plus, you’re still young. You have time to grow.”

 Trixie sat up and grabbed the magazine sitting at the foot of her bed, “I want to look like these women mom. Look, ‘Thirty, Flirty and Thriving. Why the 30s are the best years of your life’. I need to be older to be beautiful and successful. For god sakes, Dolly didn’t even write Jolene or I Will Always Love You until she was like 28! I just wish I was older.“

 “Well, you will be, honey but you just turned 13 so let’s get through that first.

Trixie finished setting up for her party down in the basement and turned on some music as she waited for her guests to arrive. Waterloo by ABBA started playing and she broke out into a full performance, choreography and all.

ABBA is her mom’s favorite band so she grew up dancing around to them daily. There was something about their 1974 hit single Waterloo that spoke to Trixie. Her whole childhood, Trixie not only made Katya watch her perform it constantly, but she also made her learn a choreographed dance with finger points and leg kicks. It was her happy song.

Katya came down the stairs carrying a huge cardboard box with a neat pink ribbon around it. She stopped and smiled at Trixie’s dancing before making herself known.

Katya was the only person besides family that Trixie would sing in front. Sure she wanted to be a singer one day. She just watched Kelly Clarkson win American Idol and was sure that would be her one day but for now she kept it under wraps.

“Happy birthday! I come barring gifts and yes, I am part of the gift, your welcome”

Trixie helps Katya with the box, setting it down on a near by table. “What is it?”

Katya’s eyes light up, “You know how you always wanted a Barbie Dream House?” Trixie nodded as she lifted the box, “Well, I decided to make you your own Trixie Dream House! Now you can fully live your Barbie fantasy!”

“You made all of this?” Trixie was in awe of the work put in to this gift, “And it’s not like a haunted house with like baby hands or creepy witches?”

“Yes! See, that’s you in your bubble bath, writing a song. And there’s your bedroom, pink of course, with a massive stereo and every Yee Haw record ever made.” Katya points out every little detail of the house.

“And there’s that bum Paul Rudd just loafing on the couch and there I am, to make sure that no funny business happens.” Trixie laughs at Katya’s over the top explanation but admires the work.

“Oh, almost forgot. I got you this hocus pocus magic wishing dust. I don’t really think it’ll work, duh, but it says, ‘This wishing dust knows what’s in your heart of hearts. It’ll make all your dreams come true.’ So it’s worth a shot.” Katya sprinkled it on top of the house.

“This is amazing Katya, I really appreciate it. Thank you.” The door bell rang and Trixie jumped up frantically “Oh my god! The Dolls are here. What do we do?” She straightened out her dress and turned up the music. She ran back over to the dream house and ran to the closet with it.

 “Kat, I’m just going to put this away okay, gotta make room for dancing and whatever.” Trixie ran upstairs to get the door.

Trixie’s little sister is standing by the door, getting ready to let the guests in. “You promised you’d stay upstairs!” She pushed her toward her mom and answered the door. All 6 of the doll stood there, “Hey guys, party’s downstairs,” with Farrah leading the way, one by one they walked inside, throwing their jackets into Trixie’s arms.

“Oh wow, okay yeah, see you down there” Just then, Bob and his friends pull up and walk toward the door.

 “Hi, glad you can make it, party’s downstairs!” Trixie fluttered her eye and tossed her hair over her shoulder hoping to be giving off flirty vibes. They guys just nod and walk through and head downstairs.

Downstairs, Katya is trying to get the party started by wiggling around to some Russian rock song she’s fully aware that nobody knows but that doesn’t stop her from having a good time.

 Everyone else is standing around staring at her like she some kind of street preforming monkey.

 Farrah walks over to Trixie who’s also just staring at Katya thrashing herself around, “What is this music.”

 “I don’t know, Katya put it on.”

 Farrah moves over to Katya, took the CD out of the player and handed it to her. “Sorry weirdo but majority rules and the majority of us say this sucks.” Farrah put on some generic pop music and Katya walked over to Trixie.

 “Hey so I’m just gonna go next door and grab something.” Katya was clearly over the party but didn’t want Trixie to feel like she was bailing on her.

 Trixie looked over at Farrah and her friends before replying, ���Cool Katya, it’s not like I need an itinerary of your day.”

Katya was visibly upset that Trixie was being dismissive and Trixie felt bad when she saw Katya’s face but the room erupted into laughter and she felt too cool to care. Katya just rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs.

 “So I have a great idea, lets play 7 minutes in heaven” Farrah spoke, taking back the control of the room. “In fact, Trixie can go first because it’s her birthday!” Farrah tied a scarf around Trixie’s eye and led her toward the closet. “Bob wants to go first so you’ll get to do whatever you want with him for 7 whole minutes” she whispered to Trixie.

 Farrah placed Trixie in the closet, “Before I forget, where’s our project?”

 “On the table by the stairs”

 “Thanks gorge” and Farrah closed the door with Trixie inside.

 Farrah tip-toes back to the group, project in hand. “Let’s get out of here, I can get my brother to buy us beer.” Farrah whispers and the group quietly makes their way upstairs.

 On their way out, they run into Katya. “Um, what’s going on? Where’s Trixie?” Katya asks.

 “Oh she’s waiting for you in the closet but I think she should just come out.” Farrah giggles at her own joke. “Bye lezbo!” and she ran out the door to catch up with her group.

 Katya walks over to the closet and opens it to see a blindfolded Trixie sitting on the floor.

“I thought you weren’t gonna come.” Trixie says with a sly smile. Katya doesn’t reply, instead she’s joins Trixie on the floor. Does Trixie really feel the same way about her as she felt about her?

 Trixie reach out and Katya grabs her hands and slowly leans forward, “Oh Bob” Trixie calls out causing Katya to jump back.

 “I’m not Bob, It’s Katya.”

Trixie yanks off her blindfold and looks around and see only Katya. “Where did everyone go? What did you do? Did you scare them off?”

 “They where leaving when I came back from my house!”

 “Get out! Get out! I hate you! I hate me! I hate everybody!” Trixie closed herself into the closet and sunk down to the floor.

 “Trixie what are you talking about? Let me just show you our other gift. It’ll make you feel better.” Katya tries to reason with her through the door.

 Trixie slams her back into the shelves behind her and magic dust falls on her from the dream house as she repeats, “I wanna be 30. Thirty and flirty and thriving.”

[scripted-dalliances]

Faithless Fairy Tale

Title: Faithless Fairy Tale

Word Count:  5432 words

Summary: Laura and Sweeney get a happy ending. (Canon up until the last episode.)

Author’s note: I haven’t posted to tumblr in six million years and it shows by the fact that I still don’t know if I even posted this right, and if I mess up I’m sorry and just tell me. All of this is Neil’s and it’s pretty obvious I’m only playing in his sandbox. *There are a few direct lines from the book, between Laura and Shadow, freakin’ important ones I hope they one day put in the show.

Despite what one might presume given…well, his everything. Mad Sweeney does better in the company of women than he does men. Sure, he can drink and fight with the lads, take the piss and make them do the same with a dirty joke, but when it comes to the grit of his bones and silence of the night, its women that make him feel more at ease.

Its just the nature of his being really, women believe in the likes of fairies and leprechauns more easily than men. It is their kind that want something a little bit wild and uncontrollable, and free. Its really only a woman who could understand and appreciate a dual nature. Not good nor evil, not nice or mean but ever changing in opinion given the direction of the wind.

Men. Men wanted firm rules. Give and take, all the details finely written down like a bloody equation.

I pray this much, I sacrifice this much and in return by this time I shall have received my list of demands or else some other bloody God gets my belief.

Men wanted Gods of War. Gods that kept their dick hard and Gods to take away their pain.

Leprechauns were by nature then, seen more as little devils. Annoyance that were more likely to steal and trick them than to help.

So its hardly a thought given to him, that when all settles down. When the three of them fall into a routine of travel; making pit stops every five hours it seems to either piss, eat or pray, he keeps closer to the bitch dead wife rather than the Genie Rubber.

“Why are you on my side?” Laura bitches, the second he sits down. The worn red seat of the ancient Waffle house is at best, a fucking bench with a whisper of a pillow above it. His weight makes it whine and crack, like a living beast about die.

“Shut up and order. Oh, that’s right you can’t because you’re dead, so how about you shut it anyways or else you can go back to the cab and rot.” He bitches right back, only to get her tiny fist shoved into his side. Clearly she is holding back, as he does not fly across the room, but it does make him keen like a whelp and curl up to protect the rest of his insides. “Fuckin hell!”

“Tell me to shut up one more god damn time, Ginger minge and I swear I will give you a very unwanted vasectomy with a fucking fork.”

Across the table, Salim with his wide doe eyes and soft heart begs them to stop.

“Please, we are in public.” He says, like he is their mother and they are just two rowdy kids as opposed to what they really are. A 6'5 leprechaun and 5'1 dead woman about to fist fight in a Waffle House at three am.

It continues on like this, him without thought keeping to her, even when she breaks his bones and insults everything about him seven ways from Sunday. Like she’s got a stick up her pert little ass a mile long and just as wide with his fucking name on it.

He can’t say he doesn’t probably have a matching one with her name on it.

He pays no mind to it, but of course she does.

“Is it the gay thing?” She questions  apropos of nothing. They had been sitting, watching Salim pray on the side of the road from within a little coffee shop. Its shit, the coffee but they have amazing doughnuts that Sweeney eats several of.

“What is?”

“Why you never seem to want to be near Salim.”

He tilts his head toward her, “I’ve just spent three days stuck in a fucking mini piece of rolling shit with the man, with hardly a breathing inch between us. If I was any fucking closer, I’d be inside the bastard, and it’s my fucking name he’d be thanking five times a day.”

She waits a beat before answering.

“So do you want him to be? Are you jealous because of the God thing or the sex? Or is it a weird combo where you are just a repressed homophobe with God Issues?”

“…What the fuck.” He whispers in ancient tongue. “Did they pickle your fucking brain, dead wife?”

“Just an observation.”

“Oh. Is it now? JUST A FUCKING TERRIBLE ONE.” He roars, the patrons of the shop sleepily look over but ignore him after a second. He shoves a doughnut into his mouth and chews through his anger. “I ain’t jealous, Gods are fucking high horsed pricks. Fuck the lot of ‘em. And I ain’t got nothing against any bloke who can take it up the arse with a smile, not my slice of cake but you don’t live as long as I do and not get curious.”

Laura smirks, as if he has confirmed something for her. Like a child, he has the sudden need to steal it from her and horde it.

“-and before your pickled brain can get too many rotted ideas. No. Salim isn’t the ugliest bugger I’ve laid eyes on, but he isn’t making me twitch down below.”

“Gross.”

“So are you, dead wife.”

She rolls her eyes but continues. “So what is it then? You always seem to hang out with me, and we both know its not my winning personality.”

Sweeney takes a sip of the shit coffee and looks out the window to Salim. “Does it matter? Maybe I just want to keep track of you. You and my coin.”

“That’s not it. For one, we both know if I wanted to lose you I could. Two, you can’t keep track of shit, example A.” She gestures to herself, “-and its weird.”

“Is this your shit way of saying you don’t want to be friends, dead wife? And here I thought we were on our way to braiding each others hair and trading friendship bracelets.”

“Fuck off.”

“Heaven above, you have no idea how much I wish I could.” He sighs deeply, wishing he had such a choice. That she didn’t have his coin, that she didn’t look like-

But she does. She fucking does and maybe that’s the part of it. Laura Moon is the haunting mirror of Essie, the color of their hair different, and skin not as freckled but there she sits. Just as mouthy and unwilling to bend against the course of nature as ever. The only difference being that Laura did it out of pure stubborn will, where Essie had done it out of faith. Faith that had brought him with to the new world, and just looking at Laura reminded him of that fact. Made it feel like there was a hole in his chest, missing something vital.

The worst part was that, given different circumstances he wouldn’t have minded. In another reality, where she had a beating heart and no husband to chase, he would have chased that feeling. Stupid as it was, as mean as she could be. He would have tried to fix the feeling with crass words, rough sex and shades of affection. Try and figure Laura out, what she believed in and try to make her believe in him, as a lover or a man.

He thinks in a different life, he would have been happy to try.

-but they aren’t in that world. No, instead she’s dead as a fucking door nail and he’s just the unlucky tool that did it. Her piece of shit husband the reason why, even if he didn’t know it.

Instead, the hole in his chest just gets infected by guilt. With what feels like several bleeding centuries of it. From the loss of Essie, to the own sad truth of what he has become and even if she is a cunt, Laura hadn’t deserved to become a pawn in some God’s half assed plan. She wasn’t meant to die, scraped across pavement like roadkill with a man’s cock in her mouth.

“Come on, he should be done soon.” She says, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Sweeney nods, finishes his drink and follows her out. Salim is just packing away his rug and hat as they approach the cab. Laura making a beeline for the passenger seat (is if her tiny legs could somehow beat his stride if he put his mind to it.) And he once again attempts to shove his frame into the back seat. As always he fails. Curled up, with his knees bent, his boots still push against her seat.

If he was in mood. He’d kick it.

Kick it like a fussy toddler on a six hour flight.

-but decides he likes how his balls are attached to his body and keeps himself in check.

+

They lose Salim, the cab and the helpful buffer between within seconds. In hardly a days drive from that, Sweeney finds himself face first in a fucking window with an red, white and blue popsicle up is his arse like it’s fourth of the fucking July.

And his coin.

His fucking coin had, by the grace of gravity knocked right out of Laura’s corpse. His problems solved, he had it back. Not freely given per say but his once more never the less.

But then he looks down at her; once more smeared ungracefully and undignified on the road, this time dry and hollow. Her chest split open, showing him the pale white curve of bones that protects her heart and lungs. She is flayed open, and he should want nothing to do with her.

Still he does not walk away.

He roars, stomps and loses his god damn mind. All in his ancient tongue, all but lost to time, to the heavens above.

He isn’t evil. He isn’t.

(He puts it back, because there is a hole in his heart, a renewed sense of self and it’s the biggest middle finger to fucking Odin he can think of. He doesn’t want a new start, doesn’t want to be absolved of this sin and mistake, he wants Laura to have her revenge, even if it means she’ll probably wring his neck. Even if it means his own death. He’s done being a fucking coward.)

He puts the coin back into her and they continue their journey.

+

“What do you believe?”

“Everything.”

Death has done a lot of damage to Laura Moon’s insides. She feels empty, like there is a growing hole in her chest -but not physically. No, physically she can feel the cold, the dry pull of limbs as they move with every step. She can feel the odd heavy weight in her guts, of fluid never fully drained and of maggots growing. Making it feel like she has to puke or shit, but not really. She is in her body, she feels it, but it’s obvious to even her that the decay is setting in.

She thinks about Mad Sweeney and his stupid words. Yer meat will slide off your bones

She hates that his words manage to stick, place a bit of fear in her. She hates that even for a second, she believes him.

-but the truth is, she is coming apart at the seams.

Can there even be a resurrection if she’s a pile of moldy meat?

Laura watches Easter break out the big guns, watches in passive disillusionment as the woman draws life out and back into her, like breathing. Watches as she seemingly turns into a bundle of brightly colored flowers as the Earth turns hollow and dead as Laura herself; and all she can do is feel is pissed off. A Goddess of this power, who could have brought her back to life, can’t. All because she wasn’t just dead. No not just murdered.

She was a fucking sacrifice. A lamb slaughtered for an uncaring God.

So she politely clears her throat, to get their attention.

“I’d like to have a word with my husband.”

Shadow smiles up to her, like she’s a gift for all of three seconds,before his expression falls. As if remembering something.

(And it pierces her heart, like a bullet, because she isn’t stupid. It doesn’t matter what those gods of death had said. He’s not grateful for her return, he’s not able to forget or forgive her sins. He isn’t her puppy any more. Confessed by the man himself.)

Wednesday takes one glaring look at her, and then to Mad Sweeney behind her and butts in like he’s reading from a dramatic play, “Might have to take a rain check on that m'dear. As you can see, things are heating up, might not be too good for you…considering your,” He pauses, eyes going over her appearance, as if he can taste the rot on her, “-let’s say delicate condition?”

“I’m dead, not fucking pregnant you asshole.” Laura spits out.

“Laura-” Shadow attempts to call out to her; but he does it in that stupid soft voice of his, the one that she’s so familiar of. The one that is to calm her, to gently tell her to reign it in and not start a fight. He’s used it at her family’s dinners whens he got to mouthy with her mother over something stupid, and it’s the last straw. 

She will not stand by and let him protect this asshole god from her wrath.

She starts walking down the steps, hears Sweeney follow, and makes her way to the group. Intent on ripping them all a new hole, physically and mentally. First Wednesday, then Shadow and then maybe the rest of them too. Sweeney as well. Fucking everyone.

-but she gets about a foot away before Wednesday gives her a smirk.

“What is it that you really want, Laura. Your man or your life? What are you really afraid of? Death or being alone? What is it that you believe in, that makes you chase Shadow?”

“Fuck you, I want both, I love him. His love brought me back!”

The old man’s devil of a smile, grows wider and she can see his two colored eyes sparkle with amusement. He is laughing at her. It makes her want to break every bone in his body, slowly.

“Did it?” He questions, looking back at Shadow curiously, “Did you?”

Shadow, looks like he’s a deer caught in the head lights. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and Laura’s rage turns into dust. The bright light he seems to effortlessly shine with starts to dims. Flickers like a candle in the wind and all she wants to do now is cup her hands around it, protect it.

Please. Please don’t go out.

“I…I gave her the coin, but I didn’t-” He admits slowly, confesses each word with a stutter before it all comes out. “I didn’t know it would bring you back Laura.”

The light goes out.

He gave her a gift he didn’t mean to give, it’s not his love that keeps her on this plane of existence, it’s a fucking mistake. She’s been following him blindly, just like Salim and his Jinn, just like him and his Gods but here she is. Before him, and the truth is a little less like heaven and more like the hell she probably deserves.

She doesn’t really know what to do with that.

“He killed me Shadow,” She spills the secret with a lot less gravity than she thought it deserved, but now she’s not even sure he’d care. “He might have ordered Ginger minge over there to do it, but it’s him that wanted me out of the way. It’s him that sent you to prison. That ruined my perfect plan. He is the reason our lives went to shit.”

Shadow glares -there’s just enough righteous fury in his eyes to make the light flicker back on, but then Wednesday is once again talking and swaying the breeze.

“Am I?” He questions, and Laura goes to kick him.

“Shut the fuck up, with your stupid questions. Yes, yes you are!”

-he moves out the line of her kick too fast for her to track.

“Ah. So. It was me then who planted that dangerous plan to rob your place of work?” No. That was Laura. Fed up and bored with her life once more. “It was me, that asked you to get Shadow involved?” No. That was Laura again. “It was me, that after a year and a month…a baker’s dozen of months, that caused you to start fucking Robbie? That pushed you to bend over and suck his dick?”

Her own words, phases and classless tone comes back to haunt her. She doubts that Shadow told the bastard any of this, and knows that it’s just him. As a God, reading her sins like they are printed on her face. The truth of her actions, that still would have damned her even if she was still alive. That was all Laura, screwing herself over.

“Tell me. What would have happened if you had lived that night. If you hadn’t of died.” He opens his arms, looking to the crowd now as if they have the answer. Everyone is silent, old gods and new, even Shadow. Laura feels suddenly, like she’s on the chopping block. Like she’s once again, sitting before the God of Death, and being told to weigh her heart against a pure white feather.

She already knows the answer.

“Tell me Laura Moon -Laura McCabe. Who used to try and suffocate herself in a hot tub with bug spray when no one was looking, when her husband didn’t make her feel any more -what was your life going to be?”

It’s in that moment, that Laura realizes she’s too dead to cry. There’s nothing to give, even though there’s a growing crack in her being. Wednesday’s rips her apart, with his accurate accusations. Spilling not her blood, but her secrets. The one she never thought she’d ever have to share.

“Oi, you fucker!” A voice finally rings out, Sweeney’s roar. He dares to venture into the fray. Pointing a finger at the Norse God, “You are on trial here, not her. Whatever her life might have been, good or fucking terrible, that was her right. It was her fucking life to live! You bastards,” He glares out to all them watching and sneers, “Old Gods. New Gods. Fuck the lot of you. Same pricks, different fucking names that’s all. All greedy, all selfish. When was the last time any of you did anything fucking productive? You scramble and you fight, and you demand worship, like any of you deserve it. Well, surprise. You fucking don’t. None of ya, and all this is,” He waves his arms out, striding forward to Wednesday to spit directly into his face, “All this bloody is, is a war to find out whose the bigger cunt to a bunch of dumb mortal motherfuckers who don’t fucking need you.”

Sweeney laughs, “They never have, and that’s why they forget. That’s why, you can suck the life out of his whole damned planet-” He points to Easter, with a grin , “Like a toothless whore, and it won’t matter. They’ll just assume it’s nature. It’s the planet dying. They’ll fuck off to space before building you an alter, love. And maybe they’ll have their gadgets and their little stories on the box, but once again they’ll be focused on survival. Those things will be pushed into dark little boxes of the old times, won’t they?”

“He’s…got a point.” Techno Boy Wonder says in reply, he isn’t exactly eager for this war. He just wants his kicks, his slice of pie and then honestly, to fuck off and mind his own business again. “Why are we fighting them. Like really. If it doesn’t matter if they win or lose, then what does it matter if we fight? This is twenty-first century. No one is going to start plucking out eyeballs for the old geezer unless they’re already crazy.”

Media is slower to reply, but even she softly admits, “And then they’re nothing but mad men. Delusional. Cults do have a nasty habit of burning out before too long…”

-and just like that. The tides and winds are changing.

“There won’t be a war.” Media decides. Grabbing her hat off the ground. “Too much trouble. This was…impressive.” She says to Easter, “but he’s right. Without our meddling, they’ll figure it out. Call it something else. Cover it up and forget it.”

-and just like that, Media and Technology Boy leave.

Easter too, sullenly walks back into her home. Her earlier joy fading with every step.

It’s not a fitting end, but it’s an end never the less.

+

There’s a fight of course, a violent one, but it’s just between Mad Sweeney and Odin. Laura breaks it up by slicing Odin’s head off with his own blade. Just as he was about to snap Sweeney’s head off.

It’s not really important, because honestly, Laura doesn’t want it to be.

He’s better left forgotten.

+

“You didn’t mean to bring me back.”

“No.”

“You don’t want to see me.”

“It wasn’t that,” Shadow hesitated, “No. I didn’t want to see you. It hurt too much. At first I just thought…I don’t know what I thought, but looking at you, it hurts.”

Laura bows her head, it’s not surprising. This talk with Shadow. It’s simple and blunt, like a hammer doing it’s job, and nailing in her coffin once more. It’s time to bury what is between them, because it’s pretty clear even if she wasn’t dead, their marriage was.

“I want to bring you back. I don’t want you dead.” He tells her, but it’s not with passion as so much guilt. He wants to right a wrong, not get her back. Not fix things because he wants to be with her.

She is, of course hurt by this fact. Splinted between knowing she’s lost such a good man because of her own stupid fault and the growing sense of fuck it, you never really wanted him, did you? You were bored with him before you died, before he went to prison. You were just holding on to something you didn’t deserve, a Goddess with a single mindless devotee.

“I love you,” She said, dispassionately. “I know you loved me. You spoiled me, gave me everything…and it would have been enough. Should have been.” Admitting it is easier in death, because what does she have to fear? Wednesday was wrong. She doesn’t fear the nothing that comes after death, and even when she was with Shadow she was alone. Laura doesn’t fear anything, just as she doesn’t believe in anything. All she wants is something in her life that doesn’t make her feel like she’s dead. She wants to feel her blood pumping inside her veins, not just because her heart is pushing it but because something is causing it to. “I wasn’t unhappy with you Shadow, I was unhappy with life, and I suppose in a way I guess that does include you even if I never thought of it like that. It’s only in death that I can admit that to you without holding back. And that’s the truth of it. I was always holding back.”

“You could have shared. I would have-”

“You would have told me you loved me. You would have told me it’s okay. Maybe taken the step to get me to a doctor, who would have medicated me to hell and then I would still be this. Dead on the inside.” She points out, “I’m not a nice person with a lot of issues. I’m broken, Shadow and that’s just who I am and you’ve always been too good of a man to say so. That’s why I think…I think I followed you, I believed in you. Or rather I wanted to. I mean, I don’t believe in any Gods or that shit…but I knew you were a good man, and you could do something. Anything to fix me.”

“…You still don’t believe? After everything you’ve seen today?” Shadow asks her, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the kitchen counter. Easter had all but disappeared into her rooms. Leaving the trio to themselves. Sweeney was recovering in the living room while they had gone off to talk.

Laura shrugged, indifferent. “Nah. I mean. Ginger Minge out there said it didn’t he? Doesn’t matter what they are or aren’t, they’re still pricks. And anyone can be a prick, so it stands to reason anyone can be a God. Seems kinda like that’s a shit existence any how.”

Shadow cracks, smiling just a bit. “I suppose it does…but what about you? You’re still dead, Odin might have been the only one to bring you back…”

“Actually, I’ve got a theory about that.”

+

“Let’s make a deal.”

Sweeney attempts to open his eyes, but really his face is bruised and swollen he only manages to see out of one. And all he gets for his trouble is the smug mug of the bitch dead wife. He frowns.

“Fuck off.”

“I mean it. Let’s make a deal, Lepercunt.”

“I also mean it. Fuck off.”

She pinches the skin between his wrist and his hands, causing him to scream so loud the house windows rattle.

Laura smiles. The bitch.

+

It goes like this.

“I’ll believe in you if you believe in me.”

“That’s not how it fucking works, dead wife.”

“Oh yeah?” She questions, standing before him. Despite being half his fucking height, she manages to make him feel nervous. “How does it work, because I’m going out on a limb in saying that you’ve got no fucking clue. Hell, I’ll gamble and say, none of you dickwads do.”

Maybe. But he doesn’t tell her that. Just glowers and mutters under his breath in another language how he can’t believe his fucking luck. Lack of luck.

“You told me you were a king once. Don’t you want to be one again?”

Sweeney stays silent, giving her any words is like selling his soul. Maybe he owes it to her, but fuck her, he’s not giving it without a bit of a fight.

“All you need is someone to believe. Really believe, and maybe a new story right? A reinvention. A rebirth.”

He catches on, what she is selling ain’t new, but fuck him…it sounds good.

“A resurrection.” He adds.

+

There is a new story.

One of a man, of a bird, of a saint and a trickster. Who came to America on broken wings and lost his crown, his coin and belief. (Oh yeah, Americans love a good immigrant story, of someone who lost everything and got it all back, Laura laughs.)

A hundred years, give or take, he spends wandering like a curse. Each road familiar, each day a repeat of the last. He makes deals with the devils, with the angels and even the ghosts but none of them change anything for him. All his pain, all his luck good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’s fleeting and he starts looking for an end.

He finds the end in a girl.

He murders her, leaves her dead on the side of the road because a mean ugly God told him to. Told him this was an important piece to bury, to shove out of the way for the grand end the once king was looking for.

-but the dead girl, she doesn’t stay where he puts her. She leaves the comfort of her grave, she tracks the sun and the moon until she finds him and once she finds him, she puts her hands around his throat and demands life.

The man who was once a bird, whispers to her he has none to give. None to share. All he has is the name of the God who wanted her dead. The girl takes it, though no heart in her beats or blood in her veins and she has nothing but luck of the damned on her side; she finds that God.

Hidden behind the shadows of the moon and sun, he stands and judges her.

In any other story, she and the trickster would be punished. She would have been struck down for her disobedience. For thinking she could get her way, just because. The trickster would have been killed, just like he wanted.

In any other story, neither of them are heroes and therefore their story ends with death as punishment. The bitter lesson of what happens to the boys and girls who don’t follow the rules.

-but that isn’t this story.

In this story, the girl doesn’t have a drop of fear in her and so she spits in that God’s eye. She blinds him, steals his blade and cuts him right out of the sky. The girl, who is just a girl and nothing more, kills a God.

She sheds her death, her mortality and becomes a God Slayer; something feared by those who rightfully should, and unknown by those who don’t.

It’s in her new embrace, that she brings the faithless man’s story to an end.

Because now he believes.

So she gifts him with a new crown, one of bronze and steel. She gives him wings not of a bird, but of hope of a new world. She takes his heart as payment, but fills it with something stronger than just faith.

She fills it with love.

+

“That’s a bit sappy.” Laura muses. Bright and warm, more so even before all this. Next to her, Sweeney fiddles with some precious trinket -that he promptly shatters between two fingers. He is still getting used to having his strength back.

The God of Death, Anubis as she now knows looks up from his brother’s book. Where their new story is written. Ink fresh to the point it’s still semi-wet.

“Gods and mortals alike, like a good love story.” Is all the man says. He is not pleased per say by the events. He still feels like he’s been cheated, after all. Laura McCabe should have died and vanished into the nothing of the world. It had been his job, and for whatever reasons, that had not come to pass. Not by his own lack of powers, but because the budding of hers.

She’s not a God. She is not holy or known enough to garner attention of mortals…

but she is something new.

Free of the restrictions dealt by most, she is a story now. Told between Gods like a promise. She can not be killed, she can not be reasoned with or bribed. She is an end and a beginning and there is something simple and absolutely terrifying about that truth.

All she needs is Mad Sweeney; not because of love, but because of everything else. He is now the start of her story as much as he is the end. He makes her, unmakes her and cycles between the two. He is her murderer as much as he is her savior. Without him, there is no life, no death and no story.

Doesn’t mean she’s nice to him, though. Why would she?

“Come on, Fire Crotch. I want Burger King.”

“They have shit fries, Wife.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Laura waves him off. A gold band around her finger catches the light. It’s a matching one to his own. A melted down version of the coin, split between them. Forged into rings by some God too afraid to tell them no, and given back to the other in a ceremony of marriage. Not a pledge or a vow to some other God, but to each other.

Laura puts her sunglasses on, and slides her arm between his. She’s strong enough to still throw him across the room, but now he’s strong enough to take it. She likes that. Seems fair.

“Come on, husband, let’s get the fuck out of here before I get bored.”

He laughs, “I can always throw you into the fucking river, wife. Try and drown ‘ya like old times. Would that amuse you? A little of tickle of death?”

“Little tickle of death? Sounds like a good name for your dick.”

His laughter turns into a bark, “We both know what I pack ain’t little, wife.”

They leave the funeral home, bantering like this all the way until Anubis can’t hear them any more. After which he sighs deeply in gratitude.

They exhaust even death.

[kaspmatic]

From a young age Eddie knew that his mother had complete control of the household and when things didn’t go her way, there would be hell to pay – an emotional torture rot with manipulation tactics at their finest. It was easiest for Eddie to play along, to appease the monster in which he lived with, if only to have some healthy semblance of a childhood. But he hated it, hated having to pretend and appease. Always having that nagging conscious in the back of his mind to go out and adventure, to explore, to be who he was truly… But Sonia Kaspbrak had wanted more than just total control of the home she wanted to have total control of each and every aspect of Eddie’s life; his health, his social life, and who Eddie was as a person. The manipulation tactics would dive so deep – fear driven at every chance she could get. Eddie would eventually succumb to the manipulation. Become so torn down that it was just easiest to be who his mother wanted him to be – instead of who he was meant to be.

Throughout the years Eddie had heard his mother rant about “the gays” more times than he could count – he’d completely lost track. Whether it was a rant about how “all the gays have AIDS”, “being gay is a sin”, or “all the gays go straight to hell” ­– he would remember them. Every single one of them echoing in his mind as he grew up. Every single time he even thought about looking at another man. Each and every verbal lashing, every fear driven tactic, would be remembered. A distant echo that Eddie couldn’t shake and anytime he even thought about coming out any time he wanted to make a move on the one person in his life he was falling for – he never could. Completely overtaken with fear of how his mother would react to the news. A fear driven so deep inside him that he often scolded himself for those thoughts. Hated himself for having impure thoughts about other men.

After lashing out at his mother at the age of 13 and putting forth the effort to call her on her bullshit – he made a choice, he made a choice to move on and live his life as he felt he should live it. For years, it was the first time that Eddie truly felt comfortable – Sonia hated having a rebellious son, but it gave Eddie the freedom to do more things for himself. To try new things and explore things he even hadn’t even truly been able to explore.

Richie had always had his attention and he hadn’t realized it until his later teen years but he was in love with him – the object of his secret affection for years – but during this rebellious time he felt more comfortable with it. But that didn’t stop the nagging voice of his mother from ringing through his mind anytime he saw the other or he thought about him in a certain light. Fear stricken, Eddie never made that move. Far too afraid to come out of the closet as it was much easier remaining inside. Hiding. On top of that he didn’t think he could handle the rejection – if Richie knew how he felt he was nearly sure he would lose him and Eddie couldn’t handle losing him in any aspect.

One night, Sonia Kaspbrak was giving one of her infamous homophobic hate speeches because of an episode of Geraldo that completely “triggered” her. Angry with his mother Eddie lashed out, standing up to Sonia and completely putting her back in her place – right where Eddie believed she belonged on the subject. Seeing red, Eddie ranted and raved about how one day he was going to be old enough and he was going to find a man he loved and marry that man – and if that day came his mother damn well better get her shit together or get the fuck out of his life.

As you would expect – this did not go down well with Sonia Kaspbrak.

An argument ensued. Insults were thrown back and forth between the pair before Eddie – furious with his mother – stormed out. With nowhere to go, Eddie decided he was going to wander through town. He didn’t have anything to fear anymore with Pennywise being dead and the majority of the Bower’s Gang being dead or locked up – so he travelled where his feet took him. He needed to cool off. To find a place he could just think for himself as far away from Sonia as he could.

Hearing the trickle of water below his feet he sighs, eyes slamming shut for a moment as he took a deep breath before brandishing his pocket knife. Feet carried him to the Kissing Bridge where he began carving an “R” with a heart around it. So, wrapped up in what he was doing on his second pass of his handiwork, Eddie was none the wiser when the newest gang of bullies’ in town surrounded him. Beating him to within an inch of his life and slashing him with his own pocket knife before tiring of the abuse and deciding to make it fun – they let him run.

That night, a bruised and battered Eddie went exactly where he wanted to go. Straight to Richie’s to ask for help. Despite knowing he was going to wake the other up – he didn’t know where else to go or who to trust.

But the beating, only beat Sonia’s fear tactics into him deeper.

Dealing with his homosexuality was never easy and it was a constant battle between what he wanted and what he thought he wanted – what he thought he needed. Dealing with his homosexuality would haunt him for years to come – a battle of the heart versus his mind, one that was always a constant battle waging war. Even when he found someone who he thought of as a great friend – but nothing more – he had doubts. Doubts that would keep him so distant and unhappy he could hardly bear it – but things would begin to spiral out of control and the woman’s grasp would start to take over his life.

This woman is Myra.

Eddie never shared a true connection to Myra and even at the proposal of marriage he all but cringed at the idea of marrying her – but there was something ever so familiar about the way she “cared” for him that he couldn’t quite put his finger on (at least until his return to Derry). Eddie held doubts about marrying Myra, still struggling with being homosexual but he knew that it was just easier – easier in society to be a straight man with a wife, a dog, a nice car, a good job. It would appease those around him and maybe – just maybe – he was straight after all. Who knows? He had never slept with anyone because he didn’t share that connection – that bond with anyone.

But Eddie wasn’t happy and part of him knew he would never be happy with Myra.

Never in all their marriage had Eddie attempted to sleep with his wife, there was something completely off putting about the act itself. He could never really or truly pinpoint why – but it was there. A distinct factor of disgust anytime she had tried so he made every effort to dodge it until she completely gave up trying.

Myra was controlling in every aspect of his life; with his heath, with his social life, and with who he was. She was nasty and emotionally abusive, manipulative even.

It wouldn’t be until Eddie received the call from Mike that he would make the connection – that he stood in his own way of happiness, by marrying his mother.

[acioo]

MASTERLIST OF 1000 VERSE IDEAS ! ( 2 / 2 )

                  under the cut are exactly 1000 verse tag ideas under the following categories:                   brotp, enemies, exes, fwb, otp, parents, siblings, toxic relationship,                   unrequited, & wanted connection with exactly 100 tag phrases per each one.                   please like or reblog this if you found it helpful !

BROTP :

you ask if i think it’ll hurt like this forever

we’re not those kind of kids

one can’t function without the other

people are good at heart

the kids with no religion

nobody hates the truth like we do

endless dumb fun

they turned her into a nightmare so i’m going to be theirs

for her i can try to be human

we are syrup in coffee and hands that bite

more than friendship but less than dating

we make the king scream for mercy

extensions of each other

all the gods, heavens, and hells are within you

this time we are not afraid

we win because we do not know how to lose

we will be monsters alone in this world with only each other

you look at me with this heady mixture of awe and love and bottomless trust

a sweaty summertime tangle of lips

our nights are perfumed in obsession

he’s lighting a cigarette even though he would never let you touch one

i took care of that thing for you

let them remember me

the only one who really knows anymore

all you have to do is ask

the best at making me feel better

piggeypack rides & inside jokes

living in each other’s back pocket

the impractically rebellious & the impractically kind

the best thing that’s ever happened to me

all you need is love

i will remember. will you?

i like you more than i planned

but we hold on

i love you inside & out

best friends with an idiot

not used to people sticking around when things get bad

here comes trouble

sitting on the library floor

sending out emails for the cult meeting

strange women society

making forests quiver

my one kin

where i go you go

our meeting was bad for society

a true friend & hot piece of ass

to a fading friend

a dynamic duo

then we fight together

don’t tell anyone the big bad wolf is a puppy in disguise

ideas that seemed good at three am

i know i’m a shit friend but oh god i’m trying

the gang screws the government

dead boys club

friends can break your heart too

can’t stop us

there is thunder in our hearts

bro homie man calm down

bored & covered in paint with an idea

i could be your family

we can be heroes

teenage feelings

i can’t live without you

i want to be loved but don’t feel like i deserve it

don’t give up! you’ll be great someday

i tolerate you

who made you think you weren’t worth it

if we fall we fall together

we are the kids you can never kill

we hurt & burn & bloom

friends that became family

alive by spite alone

as long as we don’t die this is going to be one hell of a story

local dumbasses knew what they were getting into but did anyway

just children thrust into war

it’s like being friends with a five year old child who’s also an alcoholic

double trouble

i’m pretty cool but also i cry a lot

unity ; standing together as one

you’re pretty neato

in the end you’re my very best friend

just get in the fucking blanket fort

oh for fuck’s sake here we go again

please don’t leave me like the rest

something about you made me feel alive

sitting on a rooftop at two am & talking about life

whatever you do you’re still my best friend

i’d do anything to keep you safe

so what are you doing this weekend?

let’s be miserable together

trouble usually finds us

my annoying best friend

i’d do anything to make it up to you

all we have is now

down for whatever

we’re good at surviving

death doesn’t discriminate

you suck less than most people

platonically calls you babe

so i did a stupid thing again

ENEMIES : 

better him than me

always ready to argue with you

the only thing that comes easily is the anger

laughing at your worthless jokes

awe-inspiring & ferocious & terrible

hell is other people

the game was getting a little old

plenty of monsters know how to play at being human

dream on fucker

you and me now! for worse or for better

she tears at my lungs

still working on going to hell

tangle them in bedsheets & take their heart

stop brewing up wicked things

fucking unbelievable

are you done yet?

you should be scared of me

the problem is you

monsters aren’t meant to live happily ever after

testing my patience

leave or die

this a warzone

give me a break

can you take a punch?

let my thorns prick your fingers

made of threats

you were an iceberg & i had no lifeboat

fighting & fucking

see you in hell

sinking my talons into your neck

bang bang you’re dead

keeping you at a distance

a fire blazing between us

i will taste the copper tang of your dying breaths

don’t growl at the wolf

the only thing she makes me feel anymore is rage

try to scare me, i dare you

what does it take to make you angry?

you are dumb and an ass: dumbass

sorry you evil prick

you look like shit

a lifelong rivalry

please stop talking

seeing them brings only pain

i’ll swallow my blood before i swallow my pride

i choose violence over peace

stupidity isn’t cute

i’m not cutting myself up for you again

sometimes hearts are vacant

i can’t stand a mess of a person

no enemy is safe

using poetry in a street fight

i don’t care if you burn

i tried to be kind

rot in hell

you want battle? i’ll give you war

hate spitting out of each other’s laugh

choose your last words this last time

not to sound bitter

true evil is above all things seductive

basically i’m a badass / basically he’s a moron

i hope the halo burns when i shove it down your throat

we should really have angry sex sometime

i liked your nose before

allergic to you

he’s not a monster, just a villain

stop making others suffer for your personal hatred

aren’t we all sinners

am i an asshole?

i’m going t hell anyways

do not tell me what i can and can’t do

you don’t know shit about me

they paid the price

you underestimate my power

an eye for an eye

people are poison

wanted: dead or alive

as mad as a dad in traffic

to make out with you or kill you

martyr me i dare you

i hate you more than you hate yourself

please stop framing me for murder i didn’t do that one

do not touch me

sorry you’re an asshole

throwing rocks evolving to throwing insults

asshole of the year & competition

you tried to cross the wrong person

if i’m cute when i’m angry you must find my phenomenal

done being a brat yet?

you are the villain of this story

bringing a murderous rage

an abomination among us

everything about you is wrong

i’ll be nicer if you’ll be smarter

gay judgement

some people should get punched in the face

better than you

a strange game of chess with only two royals

what doesn’t kill me might make me kill you

pain is but fuel to my rage

EXES :

suddenly we are strangers again

we deserve a soft epilogue

you changed everything

she didn’t realize she was saying goodbye

we are good people and we have suffered enough

it’s never been rustier

the people you love don’t stay dead

healing takes time

maybe it was the timing or the toxicity or the lifetime

you haunt me

your relationship will one day dazzle a psychologist

suddenly, everything is okay again

you say you hate him (but it’s so clear on your face)

i know i’ll see your face again

still overthinking why he stopped caring about you

when i think of january i think of you

everything is just so wrong!

part of why you can’t trust men

sorry to my unknown lover

i forgot just why i left you

he doesn’t believe in anyone but himself

he never saw himself the way i saw him

they haunt her dreams

she now knows the trouble of underestimating troublemakers

i’d hold her like she was china instead of plastic and she’d get oh so bored

somebody always has to love more

being apart from your soulmate hurts

i hope you’re thinking of me

you will always fall in love

our love did not know how to die quietly

if memories could bleed, if dreams could scream

taste of broken trust

we have fallen a long way

your love should be unconditional for one person or nothing at all

the devil’s love song is for the rest of her kind, not for you

all the signs screamed stop, but we could not see them

i see you holding hands and i feel angry

i’d give anything for you to hold me one last time

now i’m alone in the dust

if you ever fall in love again please fall in love with me

i don’t want us to be strangers again

still looking as good as i left you

i can’t find you in the body sleeping next to me

losing her was different from the usual pain

you couldn’t patch up the holes in his heart

i’m sorry for coming in and fucking up your life

you wonder if you knew him once ; you cannot remember

the world doesn’t stop for any of us

love is but a neurological con job

not heartbroken

no more love notes

love will tear us apart

you made me think i was good

girlfriend from hell

i don’t know if you noticed but i’m long gone

left in the dust with the taste of broken trust

the people i’ve left & the ones that i kept

send my love to your new lover

you know you should have stayed

we really cared for each other

do you still think of us

your name is synonymous with hurt

it still hurts

she didn’t learn how to love early enough

i hope hurting me haunts you for years

i feel sick when i remember how i opened up for you

loving you has fucked me up

you don’t fall until it’s over

i miss you so much it hurts me every day

you both think the other is staring at the ground

it always gets worse before it gets better

he isn’t coming back you thought

all the sparks were gone

i should hate you

you chose to burn me

sometimes endings are made of teary eyes & the saddest of smiles

i never really got to say goodbye

you used to call me baby

maybe one day i’ll feel nothing

me so sorry

you broke my fucking heart

who said i stopped loving you?

picking up the mess you left behind

the boy who broke her heart is the only one who can make it feel whole again

you tried to love me & i tried to let you

what i do isn’t up to you anymore

what’s a soulmate to a rebel?

it was never like that

what if your heart’s a liar?

what was i supposed to do?

accepting the love we think we deserve

maybe i’ll meet you in another life

she could’ve been your moon but you were focused on dimly lit stars

stay i whispered as you shut the door behind you

i don’t want anyone else to ever touch you

we outgrew each other in angry uncoordinated ways

you left & the world kept going

a letter to the boy who stole me

this thing was a masterpiece before you tore it all up

she’s no longer your girl

FWB :

him and his pale long fingers tangled in your hair

same kiss & lips ; never the same touch

his cold lips against your neck

slender fingers on your upper thigh

nothing sets you off like how you want him

free sex training lessons

can’t differentiate between lips & hearts anymore

his mouth is your confessional

he’d never let anything real happen

what we do is secret

this is no longer safe ground

“ my parents aren’t home ”

the only legacy we’ll leave is the graffiti beneath the high school bleachers

we are the avoiders

just us ; you find out

desired but never loved

you lost track of the rules

you taste like sunshine

it’s so different when we wake up

thrill chill fulfill me

with both of his hands, his eyes, his mouth

star-crossed knuckles at breakfast time

marking you the darkest shade of red

she’s the breathe on the back of your neck

i draped her thighs over my shoulders and drank

the kiss was a one time thing

the possibility is electric

the lie: it doesn’t mean anything

chapstick that started on someone else’s lips

and i keep waking up in your bed

it was supposed to be just once

is it the alcohol or the taste of him

she tastes like every dark thought i’ve ever had

she touches you like you're fragile

he tastes how he sounds: honeyed and warm

countless one-night stands

we say that it is just sex but it’s getting blurry

my heart is too big just for one of you

i’ll seduce you with interesting scientific facts

shining every night

our chaos is what sets us apart

no feelings he said

passionate as a sin

we keep telling ourselves that nothing is happening

just friends don’t kiss like that

i’m in like, she’s in love

me you and the moon

two girls one bed

this sort of lust isn’t allowed

the signs scream do not touch

her gaze is too gentle for your hard fingers

we didn’t get the chance to get past that bed

you’re in my veins, you fuck

it hurts ; lusting after the lion boy

vulnerable and yet still strong

touching everything but her heart

we don’t speak besides assurances

i taste good & bad in you

we call this bravery

this started as friends

drinking her in

lost in translation

maybe i asked for too much

what’s love to a fuckboy

i’ve never even kissed you

yes but only because you asked

they were a poem in four parts

go somewhere with me

you are my two am thoughts

please don’t use me i am broken

eat me! love me! consume me! devour me!

be a slut do whatever you want

feelings of detachment

there’s more where that came from

you are what i desire

you already know how this is going to end

sexual history: often

catching feelings like a disease

don’t get attached

send nudes

everyone winds up kissing the wrong person

gets turned on by danger

i bruise like a peach & i’m twice as sweet

the warmest light is your body

that's fucked up but i like it

that’s gross! (unless you’re up for it?)

gay hooligans

i will gladly slam you against a wall and make out with you

suck my dick written in pretty calligraphy

a best friend who occasionally gives you orgasms

you look cute when i’m doing you

in the gay way

come over and eat what my mom made

i want to respectfully have sex with you

seducing you with interesting science facts

teasing you is what i’m best at

i know what i want & i’m gonna get it

desired but never loved

can we just be strangers again

do you feel like a young god

OTP :

love her, but leave her wild

i lived to love, my darlings

you are my sunshine

tell me i’m good for you

you’re my mess

of all the things my hands have held you are the best

it was like loving the sun

how sweet it is to be loved by you

he makes you feel like when you were at the top of a hill and your bike’s brakes stopped working

the overwhelming desire to kiss

i want to hold hands & waste time with you

i wanna spend the rest of my sunsets with you

we loved with a love that was more than love

i want to be in your arms

your heart could fill an ocean

a love that is not easily buried

you love like the world ending

i find your laughter in the softness of humanity’s neck

i want to explore haunted houses with you

no one’s made my heart beat this fast before

i’ll steal you the moon

sometimes i feel like i’m going to collapse under the weight of your eyes

you understand now why they lost their minds

heaven’s a place on earth with you

he loved you like he discovered fire

did my heart love till now?

your smile lifted the world off of me

i care what you think

a love that makes the god’s jealous

you can only think of his name

no butterflies in my stomach: just shooting stars & supernovas

please i beg quietly don’t give up on me yet

known as something the star’s made

a roaring war when you touch

in her kiss i taste the revolution

the thoughts of him kick drum your veins

touching him feels like a leap of faith you didn’t know you had

tangled in each other

the lies & truth of love

people can read it in your eyes & how you hold each other

he makes you immediately sober up

making your blood tremble with something you don’t understand

he loves you so much more than you do

just kiss me again

one love two mouths

i fell in love with a heart that beats so slow

holding moonlight in your hands

i wanna come home to you

you don’t ever have to go

kiss me like you miss me

fuck you’re beautiful

that star reminds me of you

acknowledging the bad, embracing the good, & growing

my whole sky craves an island of tenderness

she was the moon & i was the stars ; our sky was glorious

he’s not just a boy and that scares me to death

sunlit lovers

spilling like honey from our lips

way too in love

my first & last love

she is what keeps me going

only a fool for you

you’re my future

love comes slyly like a thief

3rd base is when they see you having an anxiety attack

wrapped in your arms i felt like everything could be okay

you have the sweetest soul i have ever seen

i’ll suck your dick if you take your meds

grab the monet & let’s gogh

and i’d choose you ; in a hundred lifetimes, worlds, any version of reality

in the end they died

tragic backstories & height difference

may we meet again

in love with an idiot

you’re so weird (don’t change)

i love you fucker

wanna go to hell together

finger guns but like with emotional attachment and a lot of love

you’re a disaster wanna date

lonely for only you

i can’t believe you’re real

you’ve shown me the light

i wasn’t even looking when i found you

i always think about you

my partner my soldier my fault

worth your weight in gold

my favorite piece of art

we deserve happy

i’ve always belonged to you

great things take time

baby be my lollipop

he was pretty cute for a monster

stopping time one kiss at a time

can’t meet your soulmate if you don’t makeout with strangers

take me back to the night we met

you complete me

soulmates aren’t just lovers

a montage of love

when is a monster not a monster? when you love it

loving you because of & despite the bad

PARENT :

please stop destroying what is left of your heart

laying on the roof of your ‘97 pontiac

he inherited his mother’s charm

knowing how it feels to be cast away

they say: you’re a little too much for me

daddy issues written on your forehead

cosmically impossible

who would want a kid like me?

a letter to my daughter

please don’t give up on me

repeat after me: everything will be okay

her father’s daughter

blood of warriors

anxiously waiting to call that line

a bad childhood doesn’t equal a bad life

we’ve made it this far

her mother cried the day she was born

we didn’t think the monsters could ever be like us

even though there were tears there were tissues too

fearless children who love the light

they forced her into greatness

she calls her parents by their names

i will love you & love you & love you

wasn’t working well from the starter

so afraid of an empty nest

are you proud of me, mama? papa?

inherited her mother’s black anger

a figure in the distance, a movie reel of old pictures

everything my mother prayed i wouldn’t be, i became

you taught me so many things about myself didn’t know

i never did learn much of anything from my mother

the wolf in this fairy tale

loved the point of madness

master of fate

raise hell, kid

he came out of the womb like hannibal sacking rome

didn’t your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

to love to the point of madness

when i was just a little girl, i asked my mother, “what will i be?”

he loved her more than his whole life

when will i be good enough for you?

it’s all good when i have you by my side

maxing out daddy’s credit cards

i took nine months to form your heart, do not let anyone break it in seconds

mother says there are locked rooms inside all women

my poor mother begged for a sheep but raised a wolf

every place my mother prayed i wouldn’t go, i went

mother, know, i have pasts inside me i did not bury properly

mother never taught me that just because someone desires you doesn’t mean they value you

born with a thick skull

the people who were supposed to love you more than anyone in this world

spoken to with corporate coldness or demonic tongues

parents who loved them the way we once loved angry gods, leaving offerings and praying for gentle winters

birthed in the form of cherry blossoms

hiding from their dark clouds, boarding up the shutters

kid, you’ve got to love yourself

what came first: humans or despair?

legacy was more important than anything

a lonely child born to lonely parents

it feels so scary getting old

i’m but my mother’s daughter & because of this i can do anything

my parents strength & anger lives in me

original family disappointment

sorry i’m a shit daughter

i love you baby

please come home (i hope you’re okay)

demonic possession & daddy issues

fight for her

just like her father

until every last galaxy dies you have me

which to ask forgiveness for: what am i or what i’m not

i will always stay with you

family first

fairytale childhood

those raised in glass houses

daughter of smoke & bone

one love one house

to die knowing your life was my life’s best part

gay on my mother’s side

nobody’s ever going to love me this much

a collection of horrible people

using “heir” like we are in a shakespearean play

cursing me with happiness

following a set of unwritten rules

this was not the boy they used to know

it just made him kind

to have a precious few people back

you hurt. it’s okay, i hurt too

thank you for always being there for me

was that a compliment?

she was overpraised as a child

better / not bitter

somebody somewhere cares

the oldest or coolest person on earth

fuck you dad

i’m so very proud of you & how hard you’re trying

thank you to someone who always saw the best in me

it ends or it doesn’t

i swear i’m trying my best

they could never see eye to eye

SIBLING :

comparing the twin scars on our forearms

let’s run away together

i love you even though i shouldn’t

two types of the same fool

well used to tragedy

merry band of weirdos

to my siblings: please stop

hurt my sibling & i will kill you

broken dreams club

world’s okayest sister

future cellmate

a force to be reckoned with

your smile lifted the world off me

don’t even think of touching her

a good bro

we may not have had a lot but we had each other

the scorned brother & the only one to make it still

the one with it all

you think you deserved the pain but you didn’t

i can’t remember who the dead one is anymore

i love you / you are not alone / you are daylight

it makes me so mad that they did that to you (and me)

she holds up my sky

always together

i am aware of who you are and what you do

i’m coming for all the monsters that ever touched him

we have blood made of gods and heroes

take back our skin

six am sunrise shining down on us

take back our streets

it’s time to tear their castle down

you don’t know what it’s like to not be wanted

built on the same pretty lie

we learned the truth too late

as golden as they come

no matter what i have you

a drop dead moron

together they’re a fucking hurricane

sour milk children who hiss and spit in father’s eyes

burning down the streets we used to roam

entitled to financial compensation for all this drama

neverending bickering

you used to be so kind

“ even her mugshots were cute “

we have claws for a reason

not mature enough for this

he tried to make everything okay (but he failed)

raised to give themselves a reason to be prideful

they only inherited the same sad eyes

born into needless wealth

carbon copies of one another

sometimes… i can’t even recognize you

the only person that appreciates the irony of legacies like her

the looks she gives him when she sees how he’s tearing himself apart is too much

together they paint an imagined picture of their long gone parents

we were only ever told how to tumble not how to fly

we trust the siren song to call us home

born into the silver of the moon

we are not like the others

i like being alive at the same time as you

your voice is the only answer to my problems

thank you for loving me through it all

if your life must be a battle, don’t fight it alone

promise you’ll come back for me?

never fall for one of them

our old man is a bad man

we’ve all got our secrets

billionaire boys club

sorry i’ve been mean

afraid together

rich girls don’t have hearts

everything is changing

don’t tell them i killed my old self

watch your fucking language little one

why are you always so mean to me

mayhem caused

born to think like martyrs

i’ll find the bad dreams off if they come to get you

something that happened a long time ago and continues to affect us today

there’s nothing wrong with being different

an unremembered bond

don’t touch him

remember you can’t save everyone ; but have to try

no longer making our parents proud together

a golden cage is still a cage

surrounded by idiots

where’s all the time that heals

the hippies

like realizing stuff

you were alone before they left you

please don’t leave me

we met evil when we were only children

the kids with the big big plans

why the fuck do you put up with me?

i feel at home with you

have you seen her?

fighters but not by choice ; by heart

not totally useless, possibly a bad example

star child are you listening? i died that day

i might be an asshole but i’m your favorite asshole

TOXIC RELATIONSHIP :

every time she knocks i can’t help but let her in

in these empty church halls religion shifts and turns and blurs

you feed me small bits of your petrified heart

our love is a monster

lulling me to a hundred year slumber with your kiss

love from the lips of people who don’t understand such a thing

just pretending you don’t know he’s going dark again

a love that’s not easily buried

you were never a saint: i loved in shades of wrong

dipped my hands in holy water just to touch her

they wanted you to save them first

i don’t have any more control

how do you still love me after i’ve broken you

he doesn’t feel anything much less love

you have to let me go

make an altar of this stolen flesh

i love you even with your hands around my throat

i call her the devil cos she makes me want to sin

at least it’s something

these violent delights have violent ends

you were crying, but it was beautiful

i will never know who you were supposed to be

the crazy kind of love

pretending to forget how our scars got there

when love kills

he’s suffocating you but you don’t want to breathe

i will make you crumble to the ground

my heart beats in starts until the spell is broken

there’s a body lying next to him

just let me cry a little longer

i did not know desire does not mean value

killing each other with toy guns

it was a lesson in listening to your head over your heart

i wanted too much and you wanted too little

we weren’t meant for each other

he’s bleeding out

you filled up where used to be empty but only with black

you made me lose my softness

the ones who like me the most are always bad

they threw each other to the wolves

we pretend this works

you say my eyes are getting too dark now (boy, look at my mind)

someone could love you more

you’re my today & tomorrow & i am your yesterday

something about you makes me want to do things i shouldn’t

you taught me how to love wrong

you watch her crumble under the weight of your sins

maybe you were the poison and not the cure

loving him was your destruction

you don’t know why you jumped after her

you always tasted like blood a little too damn much

cities fell when you left me

you make my heart shake bend & break but i can’t turn away

i may not know what love is but i know this isn’t it

it’s easier to destroy something you love than let it leave

did you ever really love me at all?

oh god i am bleeding oh god i am bleeding oh go

 i don’t want to be alone

why did you clip my wings

this is breaking my heart

you made me cry you fuck

self destructive tendencies aren’t a relationship quality

i’m a bad influence but damn i’m fun

fear makes the wolf look bigger

don’t believe his lies

not everyone you lose is a loss

i’m so scared loving you was the only good thing i ever did

you still feel like home

i love you (not delivered)

set a fire down in my soul

heartbreak is not beautiful

i should have trusted my trust issues

kiss the boys and make them die

i think i need you because you don’t need me

they broke the wrong parts of me

i could tear you apart if i wanted

we both wish this was better

and in the end all i learned was how to be strong alone

this destruction will be your rebirth

so the poem hurt you (it was supposed to)

he looks at you like your his entire world

i’m an entire person not a vague concept you dreamt

a perfect match but sadly matches burn

never fucking good enough

loving you could be so fun if i wasn’t so blue and you weren’t so numb

i call your name but it’s fading

you were nothing before you met me

everything i didn’t say

this girl wasn’t like wildfire — she was wildfire

it hurts

teenage tragedy

please could you be tender

a wolf will never be a pet

always disappearing on me

nothing ever ends poetically

why do i still love you?

we are the monsters

am i the villain in your story?

i’m sorry i stabbed you. i love you.

i can’t do this anymore

UNREQUITED :

i’ve fallen in love with someone who can’t be reached

cosmically impossible

just one kiss would solve it all

you’re looking at me how you used to before i broke your heart

what do you know of loneliness? of heartbreak? of biting your tongue to draw blood?

i could never regret meeting you

you don’t even realize how amazing you are

the story still ends

you’re all that’s left for me

i’m so glad someone so beautiful exists at all

i can’t ever believe that anyone ever really starts to fall in love with me

even though you want to speak you say nothing

you want to ask if he meant it when he kissed you

something hurt in you the same way rainclouds hurt before they break open

i’ve been in love with you for so long

unable to stop worrying what she’ll say when she finds out

no proof & one touch

killing me silently

god you hated me or hated that you loved me at least

an insatiable desire

i don’t want to be your friend i want to kiss your neck

the ones you love become ghosts inside you

can’t shake the memory of the summer you stomped my heart out

time doesn’t fucking heal anything

i just needed you to know once

never enough

you sit there & your tongue is tied

the best i can do is a fake smile & dead eyes

maybe one day i’ll stop thinking about you

give me a try

god grant me serenity to not destroy myself with want for this boy

i yearn for her to see past the veil

your glance lingers too long

please look away ; you are too much

a warmth i am too numb to feel

i just don’t want to get hurt

like pandora’s box

a love that makes the moon blush

you don’t have to say anything

our lips do not cannot never will touch

if they don’t come back, you sleep in the middle of the bed, make enough coffee for yourself alone

is it just that you’re not good enough

when he leaves you stay behind like always

she said i love you so damned much, just not like that

the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth and she is too soft to not save

you could never hold her like she deserved

i never needed anyone (until you)

in dreams i meet you in warm conversation

to bathe in one’s own blood

i’ve never felt more alone

we wake in lonely beds in different cities

i probably couldn’t live with or without her now

like a sun is trying to escape me

you consume me

if i told you i loved you what would you say

eventually but not today i think it will stop hurting

i’m drowning myself in alcohol when i really want to drown myself in you

i always think about you

i can’t imagine not loving you anymore

i’ll be your slaughterhouse

i don’t want realism, i want magic

i loved the idea of you more

how to unlove someone

i love everything you hate about yourself

the truth is i’m in love with you

i woke up wanting to kiss you

in a room full of art i’d still stare at you

you made me forget myself

there was just something about you that made me feel special

warning: you must fall in love with me

platonically hurting hands / burning

this bed was fit for two

treat her better

does she hold on to you the way i used to?

i just want to pretend

you make me feel lonely & loved at the same time

holding onto your call

i’m sorry that i fell in love tonight

i can barely breathe

maybe if my heart stopped beating it wouldn’t hurt so much

still sleeping like we’re lovers

maybe it wasn’t you but the idea of you

there’s nothing i can do except bury my love for you

it was all fun and games until i fell in love

you’re looking through me & i can’t see past you

you’re never gonna love me so what’s the use

you hurt me so why the fuck am i apologizing

somebody catch my breath

learning to live without you

please don’t say you love me

my love for you was never much of a choice at all

meeting you felt like wandering into a dream

i’m sorry i couldn’t hold myself back anymore

this is me letting you go

just waiting to feel your touch

living with a shattered heart is hard

you can’t love a legend

i know what we are & what we are not

all that’s left are echoes

my memories were loud enough to drown the silence

WANTED CONNECTION :

you want them to fill the void in your heart

you want them to take away the emptiness

you want them to make you feel complete

i can feel it under my skin

i might really become somebody someday

we are in daylight now

too rich & divine

a whole universe in my mind

a wildness in you

desire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving

full of heartache and poetry

i am worthy and powerful

we do not perish

let us be reborn in the morning light

her eyes are closed

someone will strike a match on it and they’ll explode

they have something bad inside of them

hurricanes of thoughts

some quality content

desire washes over in waves

the beauty that is yet to come

six feet deep

i cannot afford luxuries like rest anymore

this body's a curse

it’s a great day for being sad

love is love is love

partners in crime

a short story on indiscretion

even a curse sounds holy

biting down upon my lips

a queen’s rise

the words that burn my life

an amorphous kind of reality

your life was a long line of fine

like hell you’re doing that

not violent or malicious: a result

softness as a shield

he can’t fake that

begging for a second of time

thank you for your interest in a life full of pain

please try again & again & again

the person you were & the person you became

no maps of the change

the right way to fall in love

can we just live in the moment?

living life on a line

an ex-almost

my braveheart

it’s always more with you

stay alert & stay alive

come on baby light my fire

ballpark music

am i making sense?

coming out of my cage and i’ve been doing just fuck

everybody knows i’m a mess

murder! intrigue! sex! drugs! classics!

forget about it

you still hurt

do not go gentle into the good light ; rage rage against the dying light

i don’t want to relate to anyone

we should talk

we will be gods

don’t forget me

water in vodka bottles

taking trains to nowhere in particular

say you love satan

just trying to not get arrested again

in the sewers again

the devil’s music

who’s going to stop me?

a date in hell

only the good die young

survivor riddled with arrows

i have seen the future

talk to me (i’m scared to speak)

drive him wild with hints that you know when he will die

are you afraid of yourself?

you are necessary i need you

i like you more than i planned

the sun will come up

i got by own back

help the ghost find his past life

sent here to make shit worse

and all i loved i loved alone

survival mode is not meant to be how you live

your thoughts kill you, don’t they?

as far as anyone knows you do not feel anything

i am so in love (please do not break my heart)

i hope you know how loved you are

fifteen minutes late with starbucks

alluring like wildfire and summer storms

wake up

not afraid to heal

don’t panic

i took care of that thing for you

i made me

midday criss not midlife crisis

just survive somehow

what are some of the ways you’ve died?

the hero of this story

[letswritefuriously]

Episode 1x1 of My Nameless WIP (Pt 2)

Here’s the link to part one.

Please guys; feedback. I NEED to know what you think! (and yes I know it’s daunting to read this much and easier to scroll on past but I promise you won’t regret it hopefully).

Part two

Scene 19

ARI drops into the seat next to ALICIA, nearly causing it to overbalance. He corrects sloppily.

ALICIA (without missing a beat): This is a gay bar.

ARI (ignoring her): Your glass is full.

ALICIA: It’s just for effect, really. I’m here for the people.

ARI: Great, I have-

ALICIA: The ladies, specifically.

ARI: No! No... no no no no no no. I’m NOT flirting with you. To prove his point, he scooches his chair back a bit. I just have a few questions that really really really need answering pretty please?

ALICIA (frowning): Gosh, how many did you have?

ARI attempts to count on his fingers. ALICIA grabs his hands and places them back on the table.

ALICIA: Never mind.

ARI shakes his head as if to clear his vision, and blinks a few more times. Upon realising his vision can’t be cleared, he sighs dramatically and turns to ALICIA.

ARI: So I had some contacts that I was going to meet here, we were gonna discuss about how the war we’re fighting was going, but then for two hours I sat here and they didn’t come, and then-

ALICIA (Clearly treating this as a way to use her psychology skills): A war? That’s nice. Who are you fighting against, Hitler?

ARI: No, I’m not Hitler.

ALICIA: I was asking if you were fighting Hitler.

ARI: No, he died years ago.

ALICIA: Cool. What sort war is it? Why do you feel you need to fight?

ARI: Because they’re killing people, duh. But anyway my question was-

ALICIA: Do you ever see things other people don’t?

ARI: Could you please stop- well I was actually going to ask you the same thing.

ALICIA: Really? And why is that?

ARI: Well you see there’s this particular birthmark, and you’ve got it underneath your eye...

ALICIA self-consciously raises her hand to her right cheekbone where the birthmark sits just under her eye, while ARI continues to babble.

...and see this mark it’s really magical and s*** and most of the time people don’t have that complete mark and-

ALICIA: That’s nice. How are you gonna get home? You’re definitely not safe to drive.

ARI (grabbing her arm): Wait-

ALICIA, on reflex, slaps him. He falls onto the ground, and then tries to rise, but slips and falls on his face again.

ALICIA: Oh my God, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to-

ARI: S’okay, I’m fine, just... having a little... a little rest.

He begins to lay his head on the floor, but ALICIA grabs his arm and drags him to his feet.

ALICIA: Come on, you. I’ll help get you home.

Scene 20

ALICIA stumbles out of the bar, struggling to support ARI, who is at least 5 centimetres/two inches taller than her.

ARI: ...m fine, I can... walk...

ALICIA: Whatever you say then. She drops him. He promptly falls to the ground. You sure?

ARI (staggering upright): Yep! I’ll just- he stagger forward a few steps, and then stumbles, grabbing onto the wall to support himself. His momentum swings him around, and he stumbles into the next alleyway.

ALICIA hurries after him, but when she rounds the corner, the alleyway is empty.

ALICIA: ...Dude?

There’s a loud crash, but it’s just a dog knocking the lid off a trash can.

ALICIA stands there for a second, and then shrugs. She walks back around the corner.

Scene 21

Two men are standing on a pathway above a factory; steam and sulphurous smoke are billowing up from where people scurry like ants. The men are clearly arguing.

MAN 1: ...Not good enough, Cam! He puts his hand on MAN 2’s shoulder, and his voice drops, and we can’t hear it above the machinery.

MAN 2: I’ll find a way to fix this-

MAN 1: You better. MAN 2’s shoulders tremble. MAN 1’s voice drops again. MAN 2 looks up. I’ll fix this brother.

He turns around and walks off. The camera focuses on his face.

It’s EXECUTIVE 2.

And we cut to black

Scene 22

We are once again at a military base; only this time; it is bustling with life. The hangars are all full, and there are many, many armoured cars and even some tanks parked just inside the fence. Armed soldiers motion a jeep full of soldiers through the gate-

Scene 23

ALICIA and ETHAN are in a car; a slightly beaten up bug car. ALICIA is driving down the highway, though from the slow speed she’s going at, and the way she grips the wheel too tight, you can tell she doesn’t have her licence yet.

ALICIA (Her eyes glued to the road): So how did the applications go last night while I was out?

ETHAN: Can I put some music on? It’s really quiet in here.

ALICIA: Ethan... Are you going to answer my questi-

It’s too late though, he has already grabbed her phone and has hit play on Dvorak’s ‘symphony number 9’-

Scene 24

The camera focuses on a small dog in the back; a wire-haired terrier. It lifts up its head and whines, and the soldiers all laugh and aww. One reaches out to pet it, and it begins to growl, but then allows the touch, as if reprimanding itself-

Scene 25

ALICIA groans and bangs her head on the wheel. It honks and she starts.

ALICIA: God, would it kill you to listen to some Fall Out Boy once in a while?

ETHAN (deadpanning): Yes.

ALICIA: At least some Queen?

ETHAN: Look, Queen may be great and all, but they ain’t never gonna beat the classics.

ALICIA: As the driver, I veto. (She reaches across to grab her phone, but he pulls it away)-

Scene 26

The dog jumps off the back of the jeep, and trots off, the soldiers making sounds of disappointment.

The dog ignores them, and trots into a hangar, morphing into a German shepherd as it goes, which nobody notices. When a soldier opens the door to a hangar, it trots in behind-

Scene 27

ALICIA: Ethan, give me the phone- Give me-

Scene 28

The camera is back in those perfectly white hallways. From around the corner, there’s a yelp and a thump, and ARI rolls around the corner, looking startled.

ARI: Whoops. Forgot about that. He frowns. Whoop-de-doo.

HE walks down the hallway, perfectly casual. He rounds a corner, and almost runs straight into a soldier-

Scene 29

ALICIA leans further across the centre console, and he bats her hand away. They proceed to brawl, though in a rather playful, non-serious way. Throughout this, the car swerves a tiny bit on the road.

ETHAN: I reject your privileges as driver-

ALICIA: I am sick- of classical-

ETHAN: Dvorak composed romantic!

ALICIA: I- don’t-

Scene 30

The soldier (late twenties/early thirties, female) pulls a gun on ARI, and he quickly bats it out of her hands, sending it spinning across the floor. He goes to throw a punch, but the soldier round-house kicks him in the face, putting him on the floor. The soldier takes a step towards the gun, but ARI trips her, and she face-plants on the floor, her fingers still reaching for the gun. ARI also reaches, but the soldier gets there first, bringing it around to point straight at his face-

Scene 31

ALICIA and ETHAN are still having a mini-catfight over the phone, throwing insults back and forth.

ALICIA: Music- sucks-

ETHAN: Yours- too-

The car swerves a lot, and ALICIA shrieks and bolts upright, resuming her death-grip on the wheel.

There’s a pause.

ALICIA (deathly pale): We could’ve died.

ETHAN (Lovingly): This is why you don’t have your driver’s licence, you twat. He puts his feet up on the dash, and ALICIA shoots him a dirty look.

There’s an even longer pause.

Scene 32

ARI grabs the gun and points it away from his face. The momentum sends them both around the corner. There’s a muffled thump, and then silence.

The soldier walks around the corner, a cocky smile on her face.

SOLDIER: Better luck next time, asshole. She gives a little skip, and the pant leg of her uniform flaps up, revealing-

A black wetsuit.

Scene 33

ALICIA: So about those applications-

ETHAN: Fine, fine, FINE! Queen it is!

ALICIA: I-

ETHAN: No, I agree, this is terrible, we need Queen, Freddy will save us... Continues to babble in this manner, cutting off everything she says until ‘Crazy little thing called love’ is blaring through the tiny car.

Scene 34

(‘Crazy little thing called love is now non-diegetic sound). SOLDIER/ARI walks confidently through the halls, and around the corner-

Into another squad of four soldiers.

SOLDIER/ARI: Evening, lads.

OFFICER: Ma’am it’s morning outside and this is an all-female squad.

SOLDIER/ARI (nodding): Good point. Now I have a post to get to-

OFFICER: Ma’am, are you drunk?

SOLDIER/ARI: Close, but no cigar, I’m ACTUALLY hungover.

OFFICER: Ma’am I’m going to have to mention this to your squad leader, if you could show me some ID-

SOLDIER/ARI smashes a fist into his face, and the whole squad draws guns. (Insert fight choreography that I actually don’t have to do because assuming this becomes a real thing people do that for me! 😊)

The OFFICER pulls a knife and so does SOLDIER/ARI, who lunges toward the OFFICER, only to have the OFFICER lunge towards her and back her into a corner.

The OFFICER tries to pin her down and bring the knife-tip to her throat, but ARI slips underneath her at the very last second, throwing her against the wall. She blacks out.

SOLDIER/ARI stands triumphant for a moment, and then...

SOLDIER/ARI: Oh s***! She begins to pick up the bodies and drag them away.

Oh and... in case you forgot... that whole scene was choregraphed to ‘Crazy little thing called love’.

Scene 35

ALICIA and ETHAN throw their bikes down and walk towards another abandoned house. It’s a different one this time; with rotted wood and a sagging porch out the front.

ALICIA pulls out her phone and hits record. The camera is now from the point of view of the phone.

ALICIA: Hey Tahlia! Haunted House number 9!

ETHAN (shaking his head): I hate you soooo much right now. ALICIA smacks him. What? How are we even get in there?

ALICIA: Um... The stairs?

There’s a crash. The camera flips around and we see that one of the stairs has fallen down.

ALICIA (continued): Not the stairs.

They continue to argue, and the camera turns to a very long shot, slowing panning around them, their voices indistinct.

The camera flips back around to the viewpoint of ALICIA’s phone.

ALICIA (calling to ETHAN who is off-screen): This is a bad idea!

The camera flips around to ETHAN, who is climbing the side of the building.

ETHAN (sarcastically): What makes you think that?!

There’s a cracking noise, and ETHAN gives a very pre-pubescent screech and climbs down very fast.

The camera flip back to ALICIA, who is laughing so hard that she can’t breathe.

ETHAN: Shut up!

ALICIA (Still laughing): It’s okay to be a man and scream a very, very un-manly scream!

The camera cuts back to the long shot again, from just around the side of the house.

Like something is watching them.

The camera cuts back to ALICIA’s phone.

ALICIA: Well, wouldya look at this! She tilts the phone around to show us the back door of the house. Ethan! Come on!

Scene 36

The door inside the house cracks open, whining and creaking for every centimetre it moves. ETHAN and ALICIA poke their heads in, and then their torches.

ETHAN: Whoop-de-freakin’-doo, another wreck.

ALICIA: If this is haunted I’m going to- She screams suddenly, and ETHAN whips his head around, but she’s already laughing. See! You still believe in ghosts! She walks into the house, the floor squealing like a pig.

ETHAN: I don’t and I haven’t since I was five.

ALICIA (over her shoulder): Dream on, ghostbuster!

ETHAN frowns and tilts his head, mothing ‘Ghostbusters?’. He shrugs and walk into the house after her.

There’s a long silence where they inspect the walls.

Scene 37

ALICIA walks into the next room, looking for stairs. She frowns at the ripped wallpaper.

The silence is suddenly broken by ETHAN tunelessly singing.

ETHAN: Bust it down, Thotiana-

Scene 38

ALICIA (sticking her head round the door): Shut up, please!

ETHAN: What are you, the tune police?

ALICIA frowns.

ALICIA: I thought you only liked classical?

ETHAN: I do, but I know how much you hate that song.

The camera cuts back to a long shot, once again giving us the feeling that something is watching them.

ALICIA (to her phone): See, this is what I have to deal with every-

OFFICER: Freeze! Four armed SOLDIERS run not the room, surrounding the siblings. The SOLDIERS are wearing black helmets, black suits and black balaclavas. Only their eyes are visible; the camera takes a moment to focus on each set; two brown, one hazel, and one blue and green heterochromatic pair.

ALICIA yelps and drops her phone, putting her hands in the air as fast as she can. ETHAN raises his more slowly, but is still clearly raising them.

OFFICER: Got any weapons? They nod slowly. Drop ‘em. The siblings slowly pull their guns out of where they had them stowed in the back of their jeans, and lay them on the ground. They are only tiny pistols, clearly only for use in emergencies. It is America, after all.

OFFICER (continued, to ALICIA): You there! She stiffens. What’s your name?!

ALICIA (stammering, but loud and clear): Uh... A-Alicia, sir. Alicia Jae.

OFFICER: State of origin?

ALICIA: Illinois, sir.

The OFFICER looks over at the two other SOLDIERS next to them, and then nods.

OFFICER: Kill ‘em.

ETHAN yelps and drops to the floor, and ALICIA screams.

ALICIA: Sir, I’m sorry for trespassing, the house was abandoned, we were just having some fun-

OFFICER: Quiet girl!

ALICIA (sobbing): Please! Maybe it is against the law, I don’t know, but we don’t deserve death! Upon realising that nothing she says will sway him, she hardens up. This is illegal! You can’t shoot us! I bet you’re not even real police!

OFFICER: On my mark.

ALICIA: You AREN’T with the police, are you? This is illegal! You’re  going to be arrested!

While this is being said, the camera focuses on ETHAN. All other sounds fade so that they become indistinct, and our ears are filled with a high-pitched whining that sounds like ears ringing.

OFFICER: Three!

But ETHAN has noticed something. He raises his head of the ground and looks directly at one of the SOLDIERS. The SOLDIER stares back.

OFFICER (Indistinctly): Two!

ETHAN continues to stare at the SOLDIER.

Because the safety on the SOLDIER’s gun is still on.

The SOLDIER winks.

OFFICER (no longer indistinct): One!

The SOLDIER whirls around and points their gun at the OFFICER, who yelps and turns to point his own gun at the rebel soldier. Camera cuts to ETHAN scrabbling for his gun on the ground. Both of the other two SOLDIERS also whirl, but the SOLDIER ducks and the bullet meant for their head hits the OFFICER instead. The two remaining soldiers raise their guns and prepare to shoot; the SOLDIER covers their head and prepares for death-

There’s a loud crack; or should I say, two loud cracks. The SOLDIERs crash to the ground.

The SOLDIER turns to see both ALICIA and ETHAN, standing with guns raised. There’s a pause.

ALICIA: Oh my God.

The SOLDIER turns back around to look at the three soldiers on the ground. Two are dead; with bullets to the head. The third, the OFFICER, is still alive, but dying, convulsing from the bullet to the stomach.

ALICIA (beginning to shake): Oh my God. Tears run from her eyes and she begins to cry. ETHAN hugs her.

ETHAN: Don’t look, Allie. Don’t- don’t look. But it sounds insincere; he’s still looking, and he’s crying too. (To the SOLDIER). Hey – Hey! Who are you.

The SOLDIER ignores him and kneels next to the OFFICER, gripping his hand.

OFFICER: ...Why?

SOLDIER: I’m sorry, I had to. A tear drips from those two-coloured eyes.

The OFFICER raises a laboured hand to pull off his balaclava and helmet. He is quite young; too young to die.

OFFICER: You didn’t... didn’t have to. N...Nobody does.

The SOLDIER shakes his head.

SOLDIER: You didn’t either. Their eyes drop down to a gold crucifix on a chain around the OFFICER’s neck. God will come for you.

The camera focuses on ETHAN and ALICIA. ALICIA is still in ETHAN’s arms, her face buried in his jacket, but ETHAN looks on with horror.

OFFICER: Am I... Am I going to Hell?

The SOLDIER shakes their head gently.

OFFICER (beginning to convulse): I... He cries. I didn’t want to be... to be evil.

SOLDIER (softly): You weren’t. You weren’t.

The OFFICER convulses.

OFFICER: I’m sorry...

SOLDIER: Shh, it’s okay, you were just following orders.

The OFFICER’s eyes turn to the sky as he convulses uncontrollably.

SOLDIER (singing): You are our Father, you live in heaven, we talk to you, father, you are good...

ETHAN (looking around at the destruction): We need to leave.

SOLDIER (Ignoring him and continuing to sing): You are our father, you live in heaven, we talk to you, father you are good.

ETHAN: Hey, did you hear me?! We need to leave. (To ALICIA). Come on, let’s go. She shakes her head and refuses to move. The SOLDIER continues to sing indistinctly.

ALICIA: Oh God. Oh God. We killed them. We killed them, Ethan.

ETHAN: Come on, we have to get out of here.

ALICIA: I didn’t mean to; they were going to shoot us-

ETHAN: We had no choice, it’s- He swallows hard. It’s okay.

The SOLDIER stops singing abruptly, and stands up.

SOLDIER (gesturing to ALICIA): Is she okay?

ETHAN (nodding): She’s not hurt, but... He trails off and looks down at ALICIA. She’s... fragile.

The SOLDIER nods.

SOLDIER: Not to be insensitive, but we need to move them. They gestures to the fallen SOLDIERS.

ETHAN: Who- Who are you?

SOLDIER: Nobody that you know. They lift the OFFICER up in their arms. There’s a bedroom just in there; we can put them on the bed. It won’t... They scrunch up their face like they’re about to cry. It won’t hide them but it might- it might stop the flies.

Scene 39

The Soldier puts the last body on the bed, and pulls the sheet over their faces. They stand there in silent tribute for a moment, and then leaves, pulling the door gently shut behind him.

Scene 40

The Soldier ushers ETHAN and a distraught ALICIA across the lawn.

SOLDIER: You guys got a car? ETHAN shakes his head. S***. We’ll have to take theirs. They gesture back at the house, and then to the waiting Jeep. Get Alicia in there, I’ll be there in a sec.

ETHAN hurries ALICIA off and the SOLDIER turns to face the house. They pull off their helmet and balaclava to reveal-

It is ARI, still in the SOLDIER’s form. She salutes at the house, a few tears running down her face, and then turns and follows the siblings to the car, climbing into the driver’s seat. The car speeds off.

ETHAN has made sure ALICIA is safe in the back of the car, and now the full reality of what has happened has hit him. He begins to sob uncontrollably.

The camera focuses on the window, through which we can see the white sheet, blank and dimpled by the contours of the SOLDIER’s bodies. And we cut to black.

Scene 41

A second team of SOLDIERS is nearing the abandoned house. It is now morning; the sun’s first rays are just peeking over the trees.

A WOMAN (middle aged, but still fit) is leading the team. She isn’t wearing a helmet, so we can clearly see her face. She motions the squad forward, and they all walk single-file into the house.

Scene 42

The moment they are inside the house, the squad spreads out. The WOMAN leading the squad sees the door to the bedroom hanging slightly open. She walks towards it, her gun raised.

Scene 43

The WOMAN walks slowly walks through the door; upon seeing the sheet, she pales, and runs towards it. She pulls back the sheet to reveal the OFFICER.

They look almost exactly the same; he is a younger, male version of her.

The WOMAN screams, and collapses to the ground. The rest of the SOLDIERS come running in, but there is nothing that threatens her; only her terrible grief.

She begins to sing, and it is a sound of pure misery. A song of mourning.

Scene 44

The song continues as non-diegetic sound as the camera cuts to ALICIA and ETHAN sobbing in the back of the car, and the silent tears on SOLDIER/ARI’s face as well. But she continues to drive, and the car’s headlights cut through the morning like a knife.

Scene 45

SOLDIER/ARI is crouched next to the Jeep, pulling off its license plates. ALICIA and ETHAN are seated some distance away, quietly talking.

SOLDIER/ARI: Got that petrol? ETHAN holds up a gas bottle. Bring that crap over here, let’s light it up. She holds up a match and grins wickedly, but then sobers, a little too fast.

ETHAN nods, and pours the gas all over the car. SOLDIER/ARI chucks a match on it, and they all stand there, watching it burn.

ALICIA: Who... who were they? Those soldiers?

SOLDIER/ARI walks over to her and offers her a hand. ALICIA accepts it and stands up. SOLDIER/ARI immediately drops her hand.

SOLDIER/ARI: Let’s go find a waffle house or something. I’ll explain everything in there.

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