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sourcherryandsprinkles · 2 months ago

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can you do stu for halloween? I miss the og ghostfaces

I don't usually write for Stu — I personally prefer Billy appearence-wise —, but when I got the idea, I imagined it would be something Stu would be into

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m revieving), hand job, p + v, cowgirl,

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Halloween was your favorite holiday and you were not playing when it came to dressing up. No one’s costume held up to your level. Last year, you arrived at Stu’s party in a sexy version of Regan McNeal…with the green fake vomit going down your chin and chest. While most were grossed out, the sight had the party host’s jaw on the floor.

As soon as houses started putting out pumpkins and decorations for the trick or treaters, Stu had been trying to get information about this year’s costume. Unfortunately for him, you kept your lips zipped. You didn’t want to risk anyone showing up in the same costume you picked and ruining your moment.

On the big night, Stu stayed close to the door as soon as people started showing up so he would know when you would arrive. He didn't want to miss your arrival.

He was on his second beer when you walked through the door in a hat, fishnets and a classic Freddy Krueger striped sweater dress that hugged you in all the right places. Once again, Stu's jaw dropped.

No longer interested in what Billy was talking about, Stu blew him off and sauntered over to you with a smirk playing on his lips. ‘’Who do we have here? Shouldn’t you be haunting and killing off kids in their dreams?’’ he asked, playing along with your character.

You tilted your head, a teasing glint in your eyes. ‘’All the kids stay up late on Halloween night, my shift doesn't start until 11pm.’’

Stu hummed, leaning closer until your back hit the coat closet door. ‘’And what do you plan on doing until then?’’

‘’Drink beer and watch scary movies on your couch.’’ You stole his beer and took a sip before heading to the living room where a girl was screaming bloody murder on the TV.

Through the night, you laughed and chatted with Randy about movies. A lot of people saw him as a freak for being crazy about horror movies, but you got to know him a little during your many visits to the blockbuster and he was actually a nice person. A little bit of a know-it-all, spilling facts about every movie you rented but you assumed that was his way to flirt with girls.

As The Shining played, some girl screamed, way too loud for such a tame part of the movie. You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to stuff her mouth with some chips.

Stu saw and joined you on the couch, squeezing between you and Randy, his leg brushing against yours. ‘’What’s this screaming all about?’’ he asked, draping his arms behind you and Randy casually. He had a couple of beers in him, but was nowhere near drunk.

Randy shot him a look, pushing Stu’s arm off. ‘’Can’t you find another seat? The couch’s full already.’’ He was annoyed by Stu’s interruption. ‘’And we were talking.’’

Stu raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “Oh yeah? A ‘moment,’ huh? Hate to break it to you, Randy, but she’s not going home with you tonight. She’s got a job to do at 11. Nightmare duty, right?” His hand slid down, patting your thigh, fingers brushing dangerously close to your inner thigh.

You played along, nodding with a smirk. ‘’Thanks for the reminded, Stu.’’ You placed your hand that didn't have the glove on over his, teasingly holding it for a second before standing up. ‘’Guess I should get going.’’

Stu’s playful smile vanished as he scrambled to his feet, following you into the kitchen. “Woah, woah, woah, you’re not going anywhere just yet.” He grabbed your wrist as you had reached the kitchen, pulling you to a stop. “Where do you think you’re going?”

‘’To haunt people’s dreams,’’ you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He placed his hands on your hips, leaning down slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. ‘’Do you only do children? Because I have a question, Ô Master of Dreams.’’ He smirked, his breath warm against your ear. ‘’Do you visit sex dreams too? Because I could use some company.’’

A slow smile spread across your lips. ‘’I guess you’ll have to fall asleep and find out.’’

Stu grinned. “Mmm, tempting. Maybe I should head to bed now then, see what happens.”

‘’Lead the way.’’

Once inside his bedroom, Stu locked the door and hurried to his bed. He played his part and pretended to be asleep, making you cover your mouth to stifle your laugh. His playfulness was your favorite part of his personality.

You waited a little, then crawled on the bed and up Stu’s body, brushing your gloved hand along his jaw and down his neck.

Slowly, he stirred and opened his eyes, finding you hovering over him. ‘’Ooh, Mrs. Krueger. It’s a pleasure to have you in my dreams.’’ One of his hands ghosted up your thighs over the fishnets, and ended over your ass. He gave it a good squeeze, having been itching to do that since you walked his front door.

“I like to switch it up on Halloween and take a break from the children to visit the tricksters.’’

‘’Do you give them treats?’’ Stu asked, enjoying the little game you were playing.

You chuckled at his response, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, I can provide some special treats for the tricksters who deserve them. And you're definitely on the naughty list this year, Mr. Macher." You dragged your hand down his chest, your eyes locked on his.

‘’Been on the naughty list since my mom pushed me out,’’ Stu said proudly. ‘’Do I get an extra treat for that?’’

His question hung in the air as you pushed his sweater up, fingers fumbling with his belt. It was tricky with just one hand, but with a little help from Stu, you managed it. Not wanting to deal with the same hassle when it came to his jeans, you started to remove your glove, but his hand quickly stopped you.

"Keep the glove on.’’ He grinned, eyes darkening with lust at the thought of your gloved hand around his cock. "Just be careful down there. Don't want to damage the goods."

You held back a laugh and pulled down his jeans and boxers, his thick cock springing free. You had guessed that he was large, but the sight made your pussy cry happy tears. You ran your hands up and down his thighs, feeling the dust of blond hair covering them.

Stu let out a small hiss as you gripped the base of his cock, pumping slowly. The plastic of the glove was rigid around him and didn’t conform well to the desired movement due to limited flexibility. You were careful to not scratch him with the edges of the ‘blades’ as you continued. This was more to bring a dark fantasy to life than to provide pleasure.

‘’Ready for your treat?’’ you asked, looking up at him.

He didn’t even have time to respond before you lowered your head to give the tip a featherlight lick, tasting him. He let out a quiet hiss, jerking his hips up just slightly, hands clenching at his sides. You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock, then ran your tongue up and down his shaft, teasing him. When you judged you had teased him enough, you opened your mouth and took as much of him as you could.

Stu hummed in delight, your warm mouth around him. He’s thought and dreamed about this before, the past months having spent playing cat and mouse and teasing each other, but the real thing couldn’t even compare. His hand came down to the back of your head, gripping your hair to keep them out of your face as he watched you go deeper on his cock and bobbing your head up and down until he was about to lose it.

You grinned up at him as you pulled off him, sitting back on your heels. Your lips glistened with a mix of smeared lip gloss, spit and pre-cum. Stu could have cum right there. ‘’Is it time for my treat?’’ you asked, lifting the bottom of your dress and flashing him a peek of the black thong beneath.

‘’Ugh, you’re a fucking sight,’’ Stu groaned, his eyes were glazed and chest heaving — his cock twitching. His hand reached out to touch you, finding the wet spot and rubbing slowly.

You pushed against his touch, craving more. How the tables had turned…

He caught on quickly, tearing a hole through your fishnets and sliding your thong aside to sink his fingers between your folds, spreading your arousal around. Your breath hitched, his movements slow and deliberate as he played with you, grinning at the way you clenched around him.

‘’Does that feel good?’’ he teased, fully aware of the answer.

He could be such an ass.

‘’Y-yes,’’ you stammered, leaning into his touch as he slid his fingers in and out, leaving you breathless.

‘’Feels really good.’’ You rocked your hips forward when he moved his fingers, ever slowly sliding them in and out.

Starting to feel hot, you pulled your dress up the rest of the way, throwing it on the bed. You had opted out of wearing a bra tonight — it wouldn’t have stayed on for long anyway — and Stu seemed very pleased with that decision. He wasn’t a tits guy, but pierced nipples sent his mind reeling.

His reaction made you laugh, his eyes wide and amazed. You didn’t have the biggest tits — not that they were tiny either —, but they certainly were the cutest at this party. He reached to grab one of your breasts, thumbing over your pierced bud.

''Like what you see?''

‘’Like what you see?’’ Stu mocked, sitting up and curling his fingers inside you.

One of your favorite things about Stu was his sense of humor. He was one of the very few people who could make you laugh, whether it was with a stupid joke or through sarcasm. And he even managed to bring that humor into the bedroom.

‘’Stop it,’’ you said, glaring at him.

But Stu didn’t listen, giving you a playful pout and teasing you with his fingers again and again, until you physically grabbed his hand and made him stop.

‘’You can’t do that,’’ he protested. ‘’This is my sex dream.’’

‘’Maybe, but I’m the Master of Dreams,’’ you reminded him, a winning smile on your lips. ‘’And I want your dick inside me.’’

You guided him inside you as you slowly lowered down onto him. The rip in your fishnets was making the process easier, only having to pull your thong to the side. Once he was fully inside, you closed your eyes, overcome by the sensation of Stu inside you, filling you.

Stu grabbed your thighs, trying to get his mind off your tight pussy clamping around him. ‘’You feel so good around my cock, Ô Dream Master.’’

You laughed softly, pressing a gloved hand to his stomach as you started to move, taking him in a slow rhythm that made his hips twitch. ‘’I do?’’ You held eye contact, your warm walls gripping Stu’s cock in a vice grip.

He whimpered, his hands going down to your ass. ‘’Fuck, you’re gonna liquify my dick with that tight cunt.’’

His words made you grin, and you moved faster, until you were full on bouncing. The slapping of skin resounded throughout the room, but the music outside was loud enough to drown it that no one in the hallway would hear. Not that Stu cared if anyone heard or knew that he was having sex. It was his house.

‘’Is that what you dream about when you dream of me, Stu? My tight cunt milking you?’’

His response was a sharp thrust up, hitting a spot that made your head fall back. Two could play the game of teasing.

Stu kept meeting you halfway, bringing you close to the edge. You were trying to not cry out, let all of your classmates know how good Stu was making you feel. They might think someone’s getting murdered in there and barge in.

‘’I’m close!’’ you gasped, your breathing quickening, hair sticking to your face and tingles going up your spine. ‘’I’m so fucking close!’’

Your legs were aching and the bed was squeaking from the movements. Sex was fun, but it was also exhausting. It should count as a workout with all the sweating and the calories you were burning.

Stu must have felt it too, because he flipped you over with a tight grip on your ass, and laid you down on the bed, taking over and drilling into you until you both finished. His mouth on yours swallowed every cry that left your lips, your fingernails digging into his shoulders through his sweater.

The room was stifling hot, and probably reeked of sex, but neither of you felt like getting up to open the window for fresh air. Your legs felt like complete jelly, his cum leaking from your pussy and onto his bedsheets.

‘’Why didn’t we do this sooner?’’ you asked, Stu’s lips on yours, kissing lazily and bathing in the afterglow high. You weren’t used to having a moment like this — a simple, quiet moment of intimacy without one of you teasing the other.

He bit your bottom lip and pulled it. ‘’It’s you who was pushing me away. I’ve wanted you since you showed up with fake vomit all over you. Thought I made that clear?’’

''I never pushed you away.''

Stu gave you a look. ''You did. Remember when we kissed at Ricky's birthday party? You told me to call you the next day and you never picked up.''

It was over three months ago. Your memories were a little blurred, but now that he was bringing it up, you recalled writing your number in the palm of his hand with a pen. Now you felt terrible for missing his call.

You grabbed the collar of his sweater — which was strangely still on — and pulled him back in for a kiss, trying to make it up. How many kisses will he need to forgive you?

It wasn’t long until his eager length twitched against your thigh, ready to go again. How long had it been since he came? Less than ten minutes?

You playfully pushed his chest. ‘’You’re insatiable.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii@beautybyfire@iluvscream191@mariposa555@bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14@luvvtxinityy@frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom@wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut@thatonesblog@mikaelsonsstuff@icarly23@tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb@a1mzcruml3y@red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf@michaelangdonsslut@byhrxb@kamthecoolest@kattybug@ravenstrueluv@landryslxys@die4niyahhh@sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore @Meadzy21 @luci1fer@nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy@s-al-em @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble @luiise @planetkt @vampyrgoff @adrluvh @mymultiveres @miqi-16 @not-liah @lovenats01 @doestalker@lonelywitchv2 @lausley336 @arinexeisnotworking @halforangecuts@l3ndryz @ilovelandry @your-platonic-gay-lover @danniackerman @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @zoeynicolas @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222@pumkinnroses@cruzgrecia @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe @gizmodecaprio @bingsbitch@buckyswhxre @emerald-09

All and more taglist: @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13@cece05@laylasbunbunny@gemofthenight@beautyb1ade@mellabella101@vxnity713@bisexualgirlsblog@queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly@ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart@xyzstar@graceberman3@mikeyspinkcup@jackierose902109@daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom@fanatic4niall@peterholland04@idkwhattonamethisblogs@lexasaurs634@notasadgirlipromise@zoeynicolas@thejuleshypothesis@multi-fandom-bi-bitch@lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@katherinejess@rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

#stu macher #stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #scream #scream imagine

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almighty-letu · 3 months ago

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Hi heatherrr hope you’re feeling better! I saw this ask a while ago and got curious😋

How much money would it take for Pat, Tord, and Tom to hug Regan?

Heyyy! Thanks I am feeling much better now :D

Tom's not much of a hugger, but any amount of money will do! Unlike the others he doesn't resent Reagan nearly as much.

Tord and Pat will take a little more convincing however. It better be hundreds of millions of dollars or else! Money and a hug in exchange? Nothing says they can't beat the shit out of him for free afterwards right?

#ask #anonymous #eddsworld #mlts #ew tom #ew tord #ew patryck #mlts reagan

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apricotbuncakes · 6 months ago

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I've made it my mission to read the entirety of Project 2025 (a right wing manifesto on how to take over the USA government written by The Heritage Foundation amongst other people) and HOLY SHIT ITS SO BAD.

I have only completed reading the Foreword, and Jesus fuck it's so bad. There's so much. They pat themselves on the back for aiding Ronald Regan, they say that the 1970s is a historic low point in America's history (note that the 1970s was when OSHA was signed into law, 18 year olds earned the ability to vote, the Environmental Protection Agency was formed, and Roe v. Wade was overturning state bans on abortion).

They want to take out several words/phrases from EVERY law, bill, or legal document (including sexual orientation, gender identity, abortion, and other important phrases that provide clarification and protection).

THEY WANT TRANS PEOPLE TO BE ILLEGAL.

The text in this image reads "...("DEI"), gender, gender equality, gender equity, gender awareness, gender-sensitive, abortion, reproductive health, reproductive rights, and any other term used to deprive Americans of their First Amendment rights out of every federal rule, agency regulation, contract, grant, regulation, and piece of legislation that exists.

Pornography, manifested today in the omnipresent propagation of transgender ideology and sexualization of children, for instance, is not a political Gordian knot inextricably binding up disparate claims about free speech, property rights, sexual liberation, and child welfare. It has no claim to First Amendment protection. Its purveyors are child predators and misogynistic exploiters of women. Their product is as addictive as any illicit drug and as psychologically destructive as any crime. Pornography should be outlawed. The people who produce and distribute it should be imprisoned. Educators and public librarians who purvey it should be classed as registered sex offenders. And telecommunications and technology firms that facilitate its spread should be shuttered."

They see protections for other people as impeding their right to free speech.

They want to classify trans people as pornography, and in the same breath say that anyone who makes porn should be imprisoned. They literally want to imprison every trans person for fucking existing.

Keep in mind, that this is all information in the FUCKING FOREWORD. I'M NOT EVEN ON THE FIRST OFFICIAL SECTION YET. This is terrifying. They want to remove more protections from everyone. They want to label the people they don't like as sexually explicit and make them criminals for just living their best life.

I cannot explain how terrifying this is. And Project 2025 is already in motion. Book bans, and anti-queer (but especially anti-trans laws) have been introduced at an all time high recently. And this is just my area of focus as a trans activist. I'm sure that other horrific things have been introduced as well.

I cannot explain how terrifying all of this is. I'm seething with rage and I want to break down crying even though I know my tears won't fix anything. I'm distraught and in despair.

#transgender #lgbtq #trans #lgbt #trans masc #nonbinary #ftm #trans rights #queer rights #project 2025

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ask-the-skirtz · 7 months ago

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(Sorry, I know I kept asking stuff about Michelle and then never did anything after. Kept getting distracted.)

“W-We won’t take her from you, kiddo. Promise.”

[Marnie steps back into the camera view. She seems to have stopped sniffling, but her face makes it clear she was crying.]

“… Grandma? You there?”

[She sounds nervous and scared. Magnus patted her on the back.]

- @ask-mars-mags-and-aus

Even if she doesn't seem particularly convinced, Regan picks up her doll, raising her up in front of the camera. Sure enough, it starts moving.

"...Oh dear-."

The doll awkwardly looks over to Regan, and then waves at the camera. She seems unsure on what to do, or say.

"...Hello, Marnie, sweetheart. I'm so sorry for disappearing on you like that."

"A lot has happened and I haven't... quite wrapped my head around it yet."

#spooky month #skirtzsquad #sm skirtzsquad #spooky month oc #sm regan johnson #sm regan #spooky month michelle #michelle erotoph #sm michelle

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honeysmokedham · 8 months ago

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Alternate Reality || Solo

In an alternate reality Declan’s hand was in hers. Nora had told him to close her eyes, his light laughter echoed in the abandoned chapel above the crypt. She would walk backwards, making sure he didn’t trip down the stairs. She’d settle him at the bottom, and memorize his face as he took his first look at their new home. The sign would say Welcome Home Declan and Nora. The birthday gifts would be opened together, because what was her was his and his was hers and this was theirs. They’d curl together on their cot, she’d put names to faces as they looked at the photos taped to the wall next to her pillow. Blood wouldn’t pool beneath them.

In an alternate reality Nora hadn’t gone to Ireland. The gifts at the steps had been opened on her birthday. She wouldn’t have gotten in a fight with Emilio about Regan’s choice, then ultimately pick at him so he wouldn’t think twice when she wasn’t around the next day. She’d have spent her birthday playing Fortnite Festival with Van, and forced her to play the same Olivia Rodrigo song over and over again until Nora managed to get a good score. She’d shown up at Teddy’s for dinner. Wynne and Emilio were at the table, Teddy would come through the door with the biggest display of ham. The night passed by in merriment, a game of trick Emilio into eating was played. Teddy hugged her goodnight. Wynne clasped her hands. Emilio patted her arm. She was happy with her family. She would never know that in Ireland Regan was crossing paths with Declan. The world would never explode into colors she’d never known existed. She’d remain who she was. Now ham reminded her of hamstring, and hamstring was disgusting.

In an alternate reality Declan was born to a family that loved him. He was raised with humans, among humans, as a human. He never knew a life where he was born to die for someone else. Instead he was valued for who he was. A shadow didn’t follow him around in life, waiting for the day a scream replaced his life. In that reality fate chose to cross their paths. He saw the monster before him and he felt fear. Without living in fear his whole life, he never learned about the emotion. It was always what waited in the darkness, the risk of heights and the stress of poor performance. Without fear cradling his whole life, he was unable to look at Nora with the same fearless love he’d held by the waterfall.

In an alternate reality Nora wasn’t sitting alone in the dark crypt. The sign welcoming her home hadn’t sent an arrow into her heart, and the presents neatly piled at the stairs hadn’t brought tears to her eyes. She hadn’t cut her finger on the paper while opening them. The cut hadn’t distracted her for hours as she watched drops of blood slip from the slash, a weak imitation of the cut across Declan’s throat. A shadow didn’t remind her how worthless and undeserving she was.

In the alternate reality there were no cups from Ariadne. An invitation to a picnic. A want to know her more. A carved bear from Metzli. Osito, the name she’d loved. A hope for a good birthday, and many more. A picture from Van. A message of good things to come. A hope that she was having fun. Fuck. She had been having fun in Ireland until reality snuck in and slit fun’s throat. In that alternate reality there wasn’t a bear from Emilio. A note that he was sorry. A note that he wanted her to come by. A note that told her he’d leave if he had to, as long as she had a good birthday.

In that alternate reality she read Regan’s note the day of her birthday, and after some brief annoyance, she let it go. She accepted the words. “If you’re reading this, then I am already in Ireland. I’m sorry I did not tell you when I was leaving. It was for the best. Your tenacity might have gotten you killed. Besides, this town needs you. It is full of people to extort, and help, if you are so inclined, which I know you to be. You’re a strange one, you know. I do not think that’s bad. I used to. Now I’m less certain. I will even suggest that you are correct not to listen to anyone, including Emilio.”

In that alternate reality Nora was still the girl that needed to hear those words. And she would have listened to them despite the last line. And Declan would be alive. People in the town would be extorted. Maybe she’d have found one person she was capable of saving. Every now and then she’d think of Regan, the screams they shared, and fun they’d had. She’d think ‘I hope Regan is doing okay.’ But the thought would pass and life would go on, and their fates weren’t so intricately woven together that she considered Regan to be family and hated her for it. In that alternate reality she wasn’t crying in the dark over a pile of presents and loathing herself for every choice she’d ever made.

But this wasn’t an alternate reality. This was the path she’d chosen. The consequences of her actions. The mistakes she’d made. The reality of it all. And that was too much. So Eleanor “Nora” Pine did what she always did. She walked away.

#solo #alternate reality #suicidal ideation tw #hello I know it’s another sad Nora solo I’m sorry #it’s just there are story elements that need to be told and she’s not verbal enough to do it with someone else #this is my last one #I tried to keep these short #tldr; Nora has big emotions and walks away from wickeds rest because she has a run away problem #that’s it!#thank you for everyone who read this arc

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duskwoodgirl4life · 1 year ago

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I want to say thank you to @digital-corruption for giving me the awesome clown idea for this Halloween Oneshot.

I was busy getting ready for Jessy's yearly Halloween party. I had spent months trying to decide what to go as. In the end I chose to go as catwoman Jessy and Cleo helped me with the costume making sure it was perfect for the party. I stand In front of the mirror adjusting my costume when my mind drifts back to the last time I saw Jake. It has been 6 months since I last saw him. 6 long months had passed me by. I hadn't heard a word from him in months. He told me the last time I saw him he was in the process of clearing his name and that he would no longer be wanted by the government. I get snapped out of my thoughts as my phone buzzes picking my phone up. I see that Lilly texted me.

Lilly: hey, me and Dan will be at your place in 10 minutes to pick you up

MC: hey, okay I'm almost ready see you in 10

I put my phone down and finished getting ready putting my eye mask on. I am all set to go, I see lights outside and see Dan parking his car on the driveway. I grab my purse and jacket and go outside to greet Dan and lilly. "Damn MC you look amazing in that outfit" I smile and hug Lilly and Dan. "Thanks Lilly, you look amazing yourself, and Dan, check you out dressed as James Bond." I can't help but laugh when Dan does his James Bond pose. All 3 of us walk to Jessy's as she doesn't live too far away. A part of me does want to enjoy myself tonight but I can't help but think about Jake. I hope wherever he is and whatever he's doing that he's safe. I can't handle the thought that he might be in danger.

We finally reach Jessy's apartment. She has spiderwebs on the outside of her front door and skeletons hanging from the door. Before I can knock on the door Jessy opens it up and wraps her arms around me. "I thought I could hear voices out here, MC you look amazing you look so smart Dan and lily you look cool dressed as a nurse" Jessy moves to one side and lets us in her apartment is decorated from top to bottom. "This is my favorite time of the year. I love the spooky season, I love what you have done with the decorations Jessy" the party soon gets underway everyone is having an amazing time. The laughter is echoing around the room and the drinks are flowing.

Everyone at the party is all dressed up. Thomas and Hannah have come as Morticia and Gomez. Jessy is dressed up as Regan from the exorcist Jessy is as always been a true horror queen. Richy has come dressed as a mummy and Cleo has come as a tiffiney from the bride of Chucky. Everyone looks amazing. You could see all the effort they had put into making their costumes look the part. There was just one person missing in all this Jake.

I stand by the window looking out at the parents with their children trick or treating everyone to have such a wonderful time. The leaves lightly blowing along the streets as I look out into the night I see a figure in the distance. I can see it starting to get closer as they come into view. I am able to see that it's someone dressed up as pennywise. There is something odd about them; they only appear to be wearing a mask and not the full costume. I think no more of it and come away from the window and grab myself another drink. Jessy walks over to me and sits down putting her arm around my shoulder. "He will be okay you know, and I'm sure he will be with you soon" I didn't need to explain to Jessy she knew how much I love and care for Jake.

Something was a little different with her. She kept smiling and winking at me, "how much have you had to drink?" Jessy just chuckles at me and pat's my shoulder. "I'm just in a good mood is all MC, when you're ready come and join the rest of us" I don't even know how much time passed I just sat looking out of the window. Watching the streets clear as everyone makes their way back home just as I was about to look away I see the figure in the clown's mask again. Whoever is out there is just standing and looking up at the apartment. I decide to go find out who it is but before I can the figure disappeared out of sight.

Every now and then I kept seeing the figure appear and then disappear as if they were trying to decide what it was they wanted to do but couldn't make their minds up.

As the party starts to wind down I help Jessy to bed. She's drunk more than she wanted. I place her down on her bed and cover her up and close the door behind me. I decided to clear up by putting everything into bin bags and taking them to the dust shoot. When I walk back to the apartment I notice someone walking into Jessy's apartment. Everything inside me just stops. I feel like I am frozen to the spot. Somehow I manage to make my legs move and walk into the apartment I see the figure standing by the window. I muster up all my courage and confront the person. "What are you doing here? If you don't leave I will call the police" the figure slowly turns around and stands there looking at me my whole body starts to shake as he starts to take off his mask.

My eyes widen as I see black hair spil out of the mask, bright oxen blue eyes looking back at me. My mouth fell open and my eyes widened. I couldn't believe what I was seeing right in front of me. There was standing the man I had longed so much to see. "Hello MC" a smile spread across my face tears of joy fell from my eyes. "Jake, you're really here? Does this mean?" Jake smiles back at me with so much love and happiness in his eyes. "Yes MC I'm free no more running away no more hiding. No more being away from the woman that I love so much" I walk over to Jake and wrap my arms around him. I can feel his arms holding onto me. The scent of his colon invading my nostrils, the smile on my face only gets bigger and bigger.

Everything about this night started out just getting through the night, now it's turned into the best night of my life. One that I will never ever forget. I have my soulmate and best friend. "I'm sorry I scared you MC, that was not my intention, I've been wanting to come and see you all night" I can't help but smile at Jake's shyness. "It's okay Jake, I'm just glad you are here with me in my arms I've missed you so much" Jake places a soft kiss on the end of my nose. "I love you MC" my whole face just lights up at Jake's words. "I love you to MC"

#duskwood #everbyte game #duskwood jake #halloween #october #horror #clown #oneshot

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mr-double-downer · 2 months ago

Note

Different Anon from earlier

I mean as much as you find Kamala to be a wet fart, it worked, her and the Biden admin got aid trucks flowing into North Gaza again.

Trump meanwhile has a pretty clear throughline to being one of the prinicple causes of this whole catastrophe. His official declaration of Jerusalem as the capital of Israel galvanized the entire Arab World with the idea of an Israeli controlled Al-Aqsa Mosque and Dome of the Rock. This in turn led to the Great March of Return and October 7th or, as acknowledged by Hamas's internal name for it "Operation Al-Aqsa Flood".

There's a meaningful and substantial difference in regards to international affairs between the two candidates.

are we really patting the Biden administration for doing the bare minimum when Regan of all people got Israel to stop by telling them to knock that shit off?

#anon

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kadavernagh · 9 months ago

Text

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Stripe Club (?) PARTIES: Regan & Felix SUMMARY: Felix found an upscale turtleneck store and they're going with Regan to get some new turtlenecks. It's not an upscale turtleneck store. CONTENT: Animal abuse allusions

“I bet behind that other curtain, there’s a whole section of — of turtlenecks and hats. And — And maybe other things! Jackets! I bet there’s so many jackets!”

Throughout their time living in Wicked’s Rest as an adult, Felix had found their help requested for a variety of different tasks. They’d assisted several people with moves, often earning a free pizza for their troubles. They’d done odd jobs for little more than a thank you and a pat on the back. They’d lent money to near strangers with promises of repayment they’d never seen. They didn’t mind it. It felt good to be useful, to have a purpose. They sought it out themself, sometimes, asked directly if they could help people with things. It made them feel good in a way not many things seemed to, these days.

So they were excited for the prospect of doing so for Dr. Kavanagh. She seemed kind enough, and she’d let them take care of her lawn already. If she needed help buying a turtleneck for her upcoming trip to Ireland, who was he to say no? Felix stood outside the store they’d found with a quick online search, waiting for her approach. When they saw her, they waved.

“I think they only sell striped turtlenecks,” they admitted, nodding to the tasteful sign on the door. “But they might have plain black or white ones, too. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find a store that just sold turtlenecks!” The ad they’d found for this one had been… a little weird, but they were pretty sure they’d read it correctly. Necks had been mentioned several times. What else could it be? “Are you ready?”

------

Saol Eile was sorely lacking in fine clothes in general, and turtlenecks were a rarity. Regan never had the luxury of being choosy with color and material. So she needed to stock up, really stock up, before moving back. She had every neutral under the beigebow, black turtlenecks, green ones, white ones, and that fancy turtleneck that came from the website Siobhan tipped her off to (how aggravating that one was so soft; she swallowed down bitterness whenever she looked at it). She even had multiple of each color specifically so she could modify one set (a nice way of saying mutilate with holes) and spare the other. But she still lacked the classic striped turtleneck.

How fortunate that she met someone who was just as normal and boring as she was. Felix was one of the most sensible humans she had met, and she could think of no better person who could provide assistance. They had already proven themselves useful by finding a store specializing in striped turtlenecks. It sounded exclusive, too. Club always added that flair. Regan gave Felix a pleased nod (they were just about what she had pictured… maybe a little taller, and with worse posture, and a nice scar for added intrigue). Their eyes registered mostly confusion and the way their eyes scanned all around reminded Regan of Van when the child was overwhelmed, which was most of the time. Regan fixed the collar on her current turtleneck – a plain white one, intended to provide an example of her fashion sense so they could compare options to a baseline.

“I’m impressed you managed to find this place,” Regan said, looking up at the sign, almost contentedly. “I find that stores specializing in one niche product must be truly excellent at producing it. So I will have the best striped turtleneck in Ireland.” That made her feel less content. More hollow. But she pushed through it just as she pushed through the door.

And they were greeted with… silence. There was no ringing bell ushering them in, and it was dark, with strobing white lights that covered the entire interior with black and white stripes. There also appeared to be dark curtains framing a much larger area, where she could see the movement of dozens of people and spotlights waving around. It looked like a nightclub. Weird. She turned to an employee – who was wearing head to toe stripes and waving excitedly at the two of them. As Regan got closer, he seemed to pull back. Startled. Maybe scared. Regan looked at Felix, brow pushed together. “This is a strange turtleneck store, but I don’t get out much. They might have changed substantially in recent years.” She turned to ask the employee about it but he shrank away. “Um, maybe you should… ask.”

------

Felix preened a little under the praise. An old habit, and a bad one; they had always been something of a people pleaser, always responded to situations with raised voices by trying to placate and correct their own actions rather than holding other people accountable for theirs. But Dr. Kavanagh offered the compliment with no expectations, and Felix liked that, even if it was a small thing. It made them feel all the better about helping her out with this particular mission, made him want to find a good turtleneck that much more. The one she was wearing now was nice. Felix wondered if they should use it as a blueprint while browsing.

“I think you’re right,” they agreed. “When a store specializes in one thing, it means they can spend a lot of time making it better.” How did one make a turtleneck better? Felix wasn’t actually sure. Softer material? Sturdier? More… neck? All seemed to be options for what Regan might be looking for. “I bet, um… I bet everyone in Ireland will want to know where you got it.” Was it the right thing to say? He wasn’t sure. Something seemed to cross over her features at the mention of her move, and Felix wondered absently why she was going. A familial obligation, maybe? They could relate to that. They thought of their father’s cabin, tucked away in the woods where they’d never wanted to be but had stayed anyway. Family could make you do all kinds of things you didn’t want to do. Sometimes, Felix wondered if that was all family really was.

Shaking the thought from their mind, they offered Regan another smile and nodded, following her through the door to the turtleneck shop. But… the inside wasn’t quite what they’d expected. Felix blinked as he glanced around, struggling to see in the dark with the disorientation of the flashing lights throwing them off. It would be difficult to find a good turtleneck at this rate. How were they supposed to make sure it was the right one when they’d barely be able to see it? And the silence was… weird. It looked like there should have been music playing, something with a beat that shook the walls and the floor, but there was nothing. You could have heard a pin drop.

Felix looked to the employee, who seemed happy to see them only until Regan got close. When she spoke, it seemed to echo through the quiet space. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it might as well have been deafening. Whatever silence existed here was heavy, blocking out every hint of street noise from outside. “Uh…” Felix whispered without meaning to, afraid to break the silence. “Yeah. I’ve never been to a turtleneck store, so… maybe this is how they are?” They shifted their weight, nodding at her suggestion and walking over to the employee. Offering a hesitant smile, they nodded. The employee relaxed a little, then nodded back. “We’re looking for… the turtlenecks?” Felix said softly. The employee smiled again, nodding and saying nothing. Felix turned back to Regan with an expression of confusion.

------

“Yes, um, I’ve never been in such a specialty store. This might be customary. Remind me how you found this place? Good reviews? It’s… unique. Maybe this is what Marcy means when she says a store is boogie.” If Felix did not find this unsettling, Regan decided that she would not either. She could look past the lighting, the wall to wall stripes. What she did not like was the employee trying to scramble away from the two of them, like he was in the presence of a monster. Regan’s mouth open to ask if he was okay, and his eyes grew so wide his beret toppled off his head. Her mouth closed. Self-conscious, she tapped her neck to make sure her necklace was still secure – there as ever. So what was he afraid of? Regan shook her head. Best to forge ahead. She waved to Felix to follow and pushed through the velvet curtains.

Silence could be loud, Regan knew. She felt it vibrating in her skull after each scream, the way the world seemed to stand still, like it was stuck in Saol Eile's famous tar pit. This was like that, but far more uncanny – a barely-remembered dream. Or nightmare. All of the weird, individual pieces of the room and their situation began to come together. Though she had never gone for recreational purposes, this was not her first time in what looked like a strip club. This was the first time there wasn’t a body to collect, though. There were stripes on every surface and dozens of mimes sat and stood silently around a stage with a bar and some tables. The harsh spotlight made the center of attention obvious: a scantily-clad mime, possessing only a few stripes on its body, prowled onto the stage, each flick of the wrist and curl of the lips exaggerated and unfamiliar. Regan couldn’t look away. The mime continued down a catwalk, and for a second, it seemed to lock eyes with Felix. What was it – she watched with equal parts fascination and horror as it slowly, almost teasingly, peeled one of the stripes off.

She must have gasped. And it must have been louder than she thought. At once, it was more than just the center mime looking at them. There were about 30 pairs of fearful eyes turned in their direction. “We’re… looking for turtlenecks. Is this the right place?”

------

“Right. I bet it’s, like… a European thing.” Were turtlenecks European? Felix thought they remembered some painting or artwork years ago of Frenchmen in turtlenecks, with their little hats resting atop their heads. And, come to think of it, wasn’t that employee over there wearing a French-looking hat? This was probably just some sort of French store. It felt French, really. Satisfied with the explanation, Felix nodded to themself. “Uh, yeah. It had… crazy good reviews. No, um, words in any of them, but they were all five stars? And nobody has all five star reviews, right? So they must be great.” Even if the employees were a little jumpy. Maybe they didn’t get many customers? It could have spooked them, having two people walk in off the street if they usually went days without seeing any customers at all. Felix hoped they weren’t patrons of the Grit Pit, seeing him and fearing Wildcat, but most of them seemed more afraid of Dr. Kavanagh than anything. Maybe they knew she was a turtleneck expert and were afraid she might tank their review score if they failed to find her a suitable turtleneck?

Mind spinning with ways to explain away the strangeness of it all, Felix let themself lead the way further into the room. He was not a confident person. In fact, he was quite the opposite. Felix tended to second guess every move they made, tended to wonder if they were breathing wrong with each inhale. That was no different here, in this strange turtleneck store. Each step forward was careful and cautious, like they expected to be thrown out on the street for allowing their foot to touch the wrong patch of carpet. A few of the employees watched them, glancing back to Dr. Kavanagh warily every few seconds as she followed. Felix glanced up, spotting a stage with a… strangely dressed person who was looking right at them and… were they taking off their skin? Felix paled, looking away just as the stranger began to contort their body around an invisible pole, bringing a leg up at an impossible angle and spinning around something that didn’t visibly exist.

Dr. Kavanagh broke the silence, and the relief was crushing. One of the employees was pushed forward by a few others, trembling as he stepped forward. He crossed the room, coming over to Regan and pressing a finger against her lips in a shushing motion. Another took Felix by the hand, tugging them back towards another curtain. More relief broke through, and they looked back to Dr. Kavanagh. “The turtleneck displays must be through that curtain,” they said, still in a whisper. “This is probably just… the greeter section. Like, um, like they have at Walmart?”

------

In the time it took to blink, the mimes had Felix. Regan was slow to notice, too preoccupied with the mime that had pulled up right in front of her face, and dared touch a finger to her. Humans had no right (except one). They needed to keep their oily fingers off of her (except one). Regan swiped the mime away like the irritating gnat it was, and that was when she realized Felix was gone. She could hear them, though. Something about a different section… wait, they found the turtlenecks? Of course. They had to be here. All of those reviews needed to make some kind of sense.

The mimes parted for her, seemingly pleased (despite some of them having painted tears on their faces) that Regan was going in the desired direction anyway, in search of Felix. She pushed through more long velvet curtains and had to marvel at the sheer size of this place, and how much smaller it looked from the outside. This appeared to be behind the stage, more curtains providing a barrier and sparing them from that catwalk. They were closed. Not a priority. She'd find Felix and they would leave before that spotlight would ever strike them (and maybe purchase some turtlenecks on the way out if they could actually find any).

The mimes were silently buzzing, moving this way and that in the most dramatic of fashions. As Regan continued to carve her way through them, many glared in her direction. A few shook. “Felix?”

It took her too long to realize that not everyone back here was a mime. There was Felix, sitting on a lone stool in the middle of a sea of black and white. They had two mimes hunched over them, one gesturing like he was painting something and the other holding something flat. Together, they gave the impression of an artist with a brush and some paint.

The mimes were painting Felix.

She needed to end this. “Hey, come on. This is a terrible store. I can't find a single item for sale, and everyone is greasy. Stop this. We are leaving.” The mimes scattered like ants for a second but a few brave ones approached. Put their hands on her. “Do not touch me,” Regan snapped, as the mimes shoved her forward, making a strange gesture in the air between them like they were locking a door. The biggest mime tipped his head back, opened his mouth, and dropped the invisible key down his gullet. Regan snarled and a scream was quickly conjured by her lungs, but when she opened her mouth, she heard the screech, but no one else was covering their ears or flinching away. What? And why did it sound like an echo? Like the sound was bouncing around her. She tried again, blasting the closer mime with a scream that should have made the shingles fall from the roof. But nothing. She just turned toward Regan, a grotesque smile pulling the makeup across half her face, and showing her impossibly white teeth. “Did you take my scream from me?” Regan asked sharply, but her voice sounded like an echo, too, and once more, no one seemed to hear her. “Hey, I’m trying to speak to–” She walked forward intending to approach the mime, and walked face-first into a flat, invisible surface.

------

Felix was expecting something pretty specific as they were led behind the magical curtain. Rows and rows of turtlenecks, fashionably displayed on mannequins in intimidating poses. But as they were tugged further and further into the back room, they couldn’t help but note a very distinctive lack of turtlenecks. In fact, there were zero turtlenecks. Felix was beginning to think that they might have misunderstood the function of this store, and they were trying to think of a polite way to bow out. Maybe they could buy something small at the register? It seemed mean to leave a store without buying anything at all, didn’t it?

Except… where was the register, exactly? Felix glanced around, but they didn’t see anything that resembled a checkout counter. “Hey, um, what —” One of the employees pushed them gently onto a black and white striped stool. “What do you guys sell here? We, uh, we’re in the market for… something. We’re not sure what yet! But if you tell us what you sell, maybe we can buy it from you!” One of the employees held up their hand as if there was something in it, though there was nothing Felix could see. Were they displaying their inventory? Why was it invisible?

They were surprised when the employee began making strange gestures over their body, feeling the sensation of being touched without seeing anything making contact. Felix blinked again, looking down. They were painting him, somehow. With invisible brushes? And every place those brushes ‘touched’ somehow became utterly devoid of colors. Their shirt had been a bright green when they’d entered, but now there were splotches of monochrome without a hint of its original vibrance. What kind of invisible paint were they using? Was it washable? Felix really liked this shirt.

Regan entered the backroom then, and Felix shot her a look of desperation. They really didn’t want to be rude, but they weren’t enjoying their time at this not-a-turtleneck shop as much as they had anticipated. “Oh, we should really…” One of the employees put one hand over another, somehow lifting himself off the ground and over Felix’s head, where he began painting their hair. “I think we might be in the wrong place. Right, Dr. Kavanagh?”

They turned back to Regan for support, but something strange was going on. Her mouth was open, there was a determined look on her face, but there was no sound. It happened again. Her throat was moving, but there was only silence. Then, her lips were forming words that didn’t reach Felix’s ears, and she was walking forward, her face flattening against… nothing. There was nothing there. “Is this a bit? Regan, are you doing a bit?” She didn’t seem like the kind of person who liked bits.

------

She couldn’t hear Felix, only trace the movements of their mouth with her eyes. Her head spun and it was possible she was seeing things, but even when she squinted, it looked like Felix was dolled up like one of them. Had… had Felix been lost? Did the mimes convert them? She needed to help them. Regan bounded toward Felix and– the invisible surface was still there. She forgot. Her entire body rammed into it and her vision swam with black and white speckles. The complete and utter silence of the room only made her grandmother’s disappointment pound louder. This time, she reached her hand out slowly, tentatively, and her fingertips grazed against an invisible expanse of… something. It was flat, not particularly warm nor cold, and it did not give to any amount of force from her hands. But Regan was reminded, as Cliodhna still sounded in her ears with every ache, that she was proof even the most sturdy of things could be broken.

She could at least spare Felix some humiliation. Regan placed her other hand flat against the object, ready for it this time, and screamed. And screamed some more, until her lungs stretched and her throat rasped and she needed to stop. But… nothing. Nothing happened. Regan slumped back, defeated. Some force of nature she was; she could not even destroy something so insubstantial enough to be perfectly invisible. No one even blinked, and the wall did not offer so much as a vibration. She rested her hands on her knees, panting, and as she caught her breath she saw the mimes seemed to be fawning over Felix. One in particular couldn’t get close enough, her striped, pinky-length eyelashes batting incessantly. She sauntered next to them and plucked something from the top of Felix’s head, then again from their shirt, discarding whatever it was by dropping it to the floor, cleaning them up, but then Regan couldn't see anything. She brushed Felix off one final time, then patted their back to usher them off the stool. They were ready.

Felix was understandably distracted, but Regan needed them. She banged against the side with her fists. Felix wouldn’t hear her – she was certain of that – but her message should have been obvious: get me out.

In front of them, the curtains opened.

------

There were people all around them, and it was a little overwhelming. As was the brushing of invisible paintbrushes over their skin, and the turtleneck shop employee who kept touching their hair. Felix felt sweaty all over, anxious and uncertain. They craned their neck to find Regan still standing in place, palm resting against nothing and mouth open in a silent scream. Were they deaf now? Had they lost their hearing? Subtly, they allowed their inner ear to shift to that of the jaguar, borrowing his sharp ears in an attempt to better listen to what was going on around them. But it was still silent. Everything was silent. The people painting them, Regan, the room around them. There wasn’t even any ambient noise. Didn’t buildings have air conditioners? Why couldn’t he hear anyone’s heartbeat besides his own? (Possibly because Felix’s heart was pounding in their ears, anxiety overtaking them.)

Someone grabbed them by the elbow and guided them off the stool, trying to pull them towards — was that a stage? Felix’s panic only grew at that, the anxiety at the idea of being made to perform making the panic settle in all the deeper. They felt the jaguar spirit within them stir, felt him rumble in their chest. They heard the quiet yowl that escaped their own lips, and that was good, wasn’t it? That meant they weren’t deaf.

But they might have… a slightly bigger problem.

So panicked by the prospect of a performance they hadn’t prepared for, Felix had dropped the concentration that was keeping the shifting of their ears subtle and unnoticeable. The jaguar’s ears stuck out from beneath Felix’s hair now, and their arm snapped and reformed as the shift tried to take control. Spotted fur exposed itself from beneath their sleeve, and the hand holding their arm dropped it like it was burning. The employee who had been paying the most attention to them opened her mouth in a wide o shape, pointing desperately to the stripes on her shirt and then gesturing to the spots on Felix’s arm before motioning as if she was vomiting on the stage.

Freed from the grip of the turtleneck shop employees, Felix stumbled back. Their back came into contact with something hard, and they turned to find Regan right behind them. Had they run into her? Why was she pointy? She didn’t look particularly pointy. “I think we should go!” They said, bringing a hand up to hide their mouth. They could feel the jaguar’s teeth trying to push in place of their own, and they weren’t sure how to explain that. (As if they knew how to explain the ears, or the furry arm.) Reaching out, they tried to grab Regan by the arm to pull her out… only to find themself blocked by something hard. They tried again, but the barrier remained in place. Attempting a different angle yielded a similar result.

What kind of turtleneck shop was this?

------

Regan pressed her hands flat against the cold surfaces of whatever invisible trap she was in, moving them slowly, searching for any kind of projection or something she could latch onto and pull, and the mimes on the other side – the audience – clapped silently at their entertainment. Some rose from their chairs. Some wept, silently blowing their noses into long black and white handkerchiefs. Others watched in awe. A couple bit their nails, eying Regan like she was a restless tiger pacing in a cage. Nothing. She couldn’t feel anything at all to grab. No obvious way to freedom. Her lungs spasmed, preparing another scream, but what difference would it make? Felix. She needed Felix to figure it out from the other side. Maybe they would see something she didn’t (obviously, the container she was in was doing some very novel things with light, and it probably looked different from the other side. She was not going to panic and not going to start thinking about dying in a mime cube.)

But Felix, her best hope, was stumbling across the stage, and the crowd loved it. Felix said… something. Their mouth moved. No sound emerged. Regan pressed herself up against the side of the invisible cube, trying to get a better look, see if she could beckon Felix over, but something was wrong. Other than the obvious: that they were trapped in front of a live mime audience (dead mimes would have been better). What… what was that on Felix’s arm? Spots? The mimes had been crowding Felix, powdering their face, painting stripes across their skin, but the mimes wouldn’t have done this. They would have done only stripes, not spots (unless… spotted mimes? no). So that left only one possible explanation: it was some kind of an illusion, similar to the container surrounding her on all sides. But it wasn’t just Felix’s arms. Regan squinted, at the strange pointy bits sticking out of their hair, and as they spoke through their fingers, something sharp poked through in a quick flash, before it was obscured again. She stared dumbly at what she was now realizing were ears. Like a cat. And where Felix’s ears should have been, there was nothing. What kind of illusion was this? Surely once she was out of this screadaíl box, everything would right itself.

What would Jade do? Actually, Jade would probably throw herself against the sides. Perhaps a poor role model in this case (only in this case… mostly). What about… who did she know who handled these kinds of weird situations? Emilio? No, he’d be worse than Jade. Kaden? The worst yet. Metzli? They were creative. They would think of some other way. Regan ran her hands along the wall again, but this time, she paused halfway. She thought of Metzli with their paintbrush, the expert flourishes, the way their hand moved. It wasn’t so different from miming, was it? That was her epiphany for the day. Miming and art were the same thing. And as she rotated her wrist, something round and cool pressed against her hand.

Regan opened the door. And as the mimes gaped at her from their seats, Felix’s breathing grew heavy and twisted with panic. They… their ears and arm were still… there must have been another illusion. Like a glamour. She would concern herself with it after. As for right now, the scream vibrating in her chest needed no encouragement. “Felix, cover your strange ears that I am going to examine once we’re through here.”

------

It was strange; the crowd looked as if they were cheering as Felix stumbled, but not a sound rose up from among them. Even their hands, brought together in forceful claps that, by all logic, should have resulted in the sound of thunderous applause, were eerily silent. It was hard not to feel at least a little unnerved, particularly with Regan trapped behind some kind of invisible barrier that Felix couldn’t figure out how to get around. Were they missing something here? Were they just… too stupid to understand what was going on?

They glanced to Regan again for some kind of reassurance. Regan was smart, they thought. Regan was a doctor, Regan understood things. And Regan looked just as confused as Felix did. They felt a little bad at how much comfort that brought them, but the relief was somewhat palpable all the same. If Regan was confused, too, it meant it wasn’t Felix who was wrong here. It wasn’t Felix who was stupid, it was the situation. This wasn’t the kind of thing they should have been expecting. This was not a normal turtleneck shop.

Regan reached a hand forward, and Felix spoke from behind their hands again. “I don’t think you can — there’s a —” But, to their surprise, the doctor’s hand landed on something unseen, cupping around it. She turned her hand as if turning a doorknob and, with an unexplainable rush of air that felt like an opening door, stepped forward. Felix blinked in surprise, reaching a hand out uncertainly and blinking again when it landed on her shoulder. They pulled it back immediately, all too aware of the fact that it didn’t look very human at the moment.

“I don’t… uh… What? I mean, sorry.” They reached up to the top of their head, placing their hands over their ears sheepishly. Maybe Regan was trying to protect them from being found out. They hadn’t realized she knew about balam, but she must have, right? Unless… did their ears offend her? Was she asking them to cover up because she found the jaguar’s ears unsightly? The spirit seemed offended at the very thought, haughty as he was. If he were capable of speech, Felix thought he might insist that Regan ought to be jealous of Felix’s ears. In any case, their furry paws pressed the pointed ears against their head, and they offered Regan a tight-lipped smile. “Okay, um, they’re covered. I can buy a hat or something on the way out. They probably sell those here, right?”

------

Felix was looking even stranger, more feline, especially now that Regan was closer, able to see the detail on their weird, fluffy ears, and the weight of that hand – could it be called a hand? – that had briefly been on her shoulder. Long, sharp nails left tiny divots in her sweater where they had innocently tapped. Regan’s eyes lingered over Felix for a moment, taking in each patterned spot on their arms, noting the strange articulation when they spoke, but there would be more time to discuss all of this after they got out of this place. Incidentally, Regan was about 95% sure “this place” was not a turtleneck store. “Right, uh… hats. Maybe. There might be another section.” She was equally as certain they would not have hats.

Regan stared down the mime-filled audience, her lungs burning with explosive intent. They had trapped her in some kind of box. They had… possibly made Felix look like a bizarre cat person. And most offensive of all was the way their grotesque faces stretched themselves into sheer terror whenever Regan came near them. There was a line between being deserving of respect – having her place above the humans acknowledged – and having others cower in her presence. She didn’t like the latter. Not at all. But even so, even risking a sea of fear from them one more time, she needed them gone. They kept interfering with any attempts to browse clothes (where were the clothes?) and Regan was unconvinced that the two of them would ever get out of here if drastic measures weren’t taken. Also, they probably weren’t even real. Something about this… there had been a reason her mind had turned to Jade, Emilio, and Kaden, right? This was one of those things.

Felix’s ears were covered and Regan was ready to take a chance and see what happened to these mimes when they encountered some sound. The scream was not impressive. Regan didn’t need it to be, especially in case – no, she was sure there was something wrong with these mimes. It still shattered the seemingly impenetrable silence that had filled this place since they had arrived, bouncing off striped walls and causing striped lightbulbs to crack and plummet to the floor around them. Immediately, the mimes… changed. They became something amorphous, features melting and dribbling together and silhouette losing all shape and form. A couple of them made last second futile attempts to mime something – running away, crying – but their skin and illusion of humanity melted away before they could finish. Even when Regan stopped screaming, it continued, and where that had previously been all those mimes, there was only a massive mat of bubbling black ooze, offshoots and tendrils wiggling around like silent snakes. Her eyes narrowed at the substance. It was no mystery what it was. She had seen it before, in the sewers, the alley, the “rats”. Where it came from was a much better question. But – Regan turned to Felix. “Okay, you can uncover your ears now. That was, um, weird… right? I guess it was goo the whole time. It’s always goo in this town.”

Except Felix was not there.

------

Regan was looking at them, and that was probably bad. They looked more jaguar than human at this point, could feel the spirit stirring and demanding his place in the front of their shared body now that more and more of his features were bubbling to the surface. Humanity was difficult to hold on to the more Felix shifted and, right now, it was increasingly slippery. But Felix didn’t want to shift here. They didn’t want to hurt Regan. They didn’t even particularly want to hurt the employees of the turtleneck shop, even if they had tried to paint them into being a mime. Mostly, they just wanted to leave. “I bet there is!” They said, still muffled as they tried to hide the jaguar’s teeth in their mouth. “I bet behind that other curtain, there’s a whole section of — of turtlenecks and hats. And — And maybe other things! Jackets! I bet there’s so many jackets!”

But they’d never get to the second curtain, would they? Those same employees who’d been so eager to lead them through the first curtain were cowering now. It must have been Felix’s fault, right? They were up here, on this weird raised turtleneckless turtleneck display platform, looking like half an animal and scaring a group of perfectly nice shop employees. Regan stepped forward, and Felix wondered what she was planning. Would she announce their departure? Reassure the employees somehow? Demand to be taken to the turtlenecks or the hats? Ask to speak to someone in charge? Possibilities circled through Felix’s head, questions about her intentions clear and calculated.

None of their expectations involved screaming, though.

Definitely not screaming like this. Even with their hands over their ears, it was loud and jarring and people in the audience were melting and it was all a little… much. Felix couldn’t even really blame the jaguar for the way they felt their bones snapping and reforming or the realization that their thin grasp on their human form was definitely gone now. In the chaos, a shift was expected. Inevitable, really. Luckily, the jaguar had little interest in attacking the source of the sound. Instead, his plan involved putting distance between himself and the screaming. The big cat leaped off the stage, skillfully avoiding the black goo that had once made up the employees of the turtleneck shop as he darted towards the front of the store.

------

Somehow, the ooze from the exploded mimes was slick like oil but also clinging to the bottom of her boots, threatening to pull her somewhere. Regan shivered, thinking again of tar pits, and with a heave, freed her leg, just as something big and powerful bounded right over her head and galloped toward the… entrance? Somewhere. She wasn’t clear how they got here. Was it a remaining mime, one that leaped around on all-fours (unfortunately, not a first-time sighting)? She needed to find Felix. Even though the sound had returned to this space, there was still a strange silence looming. It was possible the mimes would be back. They seemed to fear her, and this surviving four-legged one had heard what she was capable of – perhaps she could question it.

Regan sloshed across some more of the goop and pushed through the curtain she saw the creature ram past. The fabric was still swaying from the thing’s movement. “Felix? Did you see that thing? Oh, you probably – are you looking for jackets?” She had her doubts about this place being a store. A lot of doubts. In fact, she would sooner believe in the healing powers of turmeric and lavender. “Felix?” She wandered through the huge room with the catwalk, hauntingly empty now, and just as quiet, save for the sound of each of her footfalls. The mimes had perished before they could turn the club lights off, so black and white still strobed across the room, making it hard to discern any details or see what might have been cowering in each corner. Like whether Felix might be hiding somewhere in here. Maybe that was it, they were hiding? Regan disliked cowardice, but these days, her disdain was often followed by a pang of remorse for holding someone to the standards she held herself to. (She was a banshee. They were not. It was simple.)

“Where are you? If you’re hurt, I can help. I’m a…” There it was, the door they’d come from. Back into the relatively normal front of the store. And why was she still thinking of this place as a store? It was a strip club for mimes. Wasn’t that obvious by now? Regan cussed under her breath as she navigated back to the front of the not-store. You could say what you want about Saol Eile, the banshees would not put up with any of this mimery, she thought. “I have places to be, things to, uh, pack. Letters to write. Are you in here…?” Something was. And it had glowing amber eyes; huge, white teeth; and a striking yellow and black spotted coat. The animal, the cat, moved with power and grace. And as Regan’s lungs pulled in a huge breath, readying their defenses, she came to the conclusion that this was definitely not a mime.

------

The jaguar had little interest in confronting the screaming woman. He’d seen what she was capable of from just beneath the surface of Felix’s consciousness, had watched her turn humanoid beings (they smelled strange, smelled off) into little more than ooze on the floor of the building he never would have allowed them to enter had he been the one calling the shots at the time. (Never mind the fact that the jaguar wouldn’t take them into any building if given a choice, of course.)

His best option, he figured, was to lay low until the screaming woman departed. Humans ran from the scenes of their crimes, did they not? They feared punishment, feared retribution. The screaming woman would surely be no different, would wish to distance herself from what she had done. The jaguar could attempt to find the exit after she had gone; he was safer prowling behind shelves until then. Not hiding; the jaguar had no interest in that. Just… avoiding. He had no desire to attack a woman who could tear organic matter apart with a scream. Not without knowing more, at least. The jaguar remembered the last human he’d wrapped his teeth around. He could still taste the foulness of her glittery blood on his tongue. It was not a thing he wished to repeat.

But the screaming woman wasn’t leaving. She was circling the store, she was calling out for Felix. Why? To eliminate witnesses to her crime? The jaguar let out a low sound of displeasure, wishing she would leave. But instead, she entered the front of the building where the jaguar prowled, still calling out for his human counterpart. She approached, and the jaguar let out a low growl, flashing his teeth at her. His eyes darted around the building, landing at last on a door that seemed to lead to the outside. But the jaguar lacked Felix’s thumbs; he wouldn’t be able to open it on his own. And if he let Felix have control again, would they leave? Or would they continue to remain in the presence of a clear threat to maintain an aura of politeness? It was too big a risk.

Letting out a much louder yowl, the jaguar swiped a paw through the air between himself and the screaming woman, the threat clear. Keeping a wide distance between them, he padded over to the door and pawed at it with another yowl. Perhaps if he used his claws, he could remove it from its hinges. But could he do it before the woman chose to scream again? It seemed a risk.

Turning his head again, the jaguar’s gaze landed on the large display window, painted over with black and white stripes but still glass. Still possible to break. The idea that formed in the beast’s head was an obvious one; it was not, perhaps, a good one.

------

The animal slunk around, panting, ears pinned back, the picture of a stressed, cornered thing that held enough pride to deserve better. Saliva glistened on its long teeth. Regan’s mouth dropped open and the leading edge of a mounting screech nearly came pouring out. Getting a better look at the beast did nothing to explain the situation she’d found herself in. Was it a leopard? A jaguar? It didn’t matter; they both had teeth and claws. Regan peeled back, her breath caught in her throat. She told her racing heart that fear was only in the mind, and that she was above it. How many cats had she reduced to nothing but bone shards and clumps of viscera? This was no different (but… Lullaby. And Melody.). It had an expression she recognized, even on the face of an animal: it was convinced of its invulnerability, a true apex predator.

This cat, whatever species it was, had nothing in common with Jade’s babies – uh, cats – other than its chattiness. But where Lullaby meowed and purred (away, from across the room), this animal bared its lips back, revealing wicked fangs, and roared.

The paw came fast and Regan stumbled back, missing the claws. She couldn’t tell by what margin. Every instinct tried to yank her away; whatever self-preservation remained after her years of training was telling her to run. Her grandmother would be appalled (she scribbled a quick mental note to not mention this). No, Regan would blow the creature up on the spot and harvest the fragments that remained, the only indication that there had been something once alive in front of her. As the leopard yowled again, Regan’s lungs pushed themselves to issue one of their own. But… the animal didn’t seem interested in her, really. It clawed at the painted black door this time, the furrows from its claws revealing the light wood under the paint. Chips sprayed practically across the room. Regan sprang sideways, trying to create more distance, tying a rope around her lungs to rein them in.

Because… because Jade would hate it if she killed a cat. She wasn’t going to make Jade unhappy when they had less than a week left together. And it probably belonged to the zoo, right? Ó, lobhadh mór, she was soft, too soft. Saol Eile was going to sink its teeth into her if this leopard did not.

As the animal’s gaze ricocheted between the door and an offensively-intact window, Regan had a suspicion. (Not about Felix. She had no idea where they went. Probably home. She couldn’t blame them. She also would have gone home if she were painted up like a mime.) It was not nearly black and white enough to be something that belonged here. Did it want out, too? Regan cleared her throat, swallowing back the last of the urge to scream, and tried to keep her voice low. “I’m not good at talking to cats… I don’t think I am. Mostly, they talk to me. Meowing. Well, actually, it’s only one cat who does that. The other only looks at me on occasion, like I should be honored to see his eyes. Um, are you gay? A gay, uh… leopard? My gir– I know a gay cat.” The animal seemed calm enough. It was probably just confused. As she talked, she toed cautiously toward the door. Her lungs did not like this. They flared again at the danger, but she held her breath, and turned the knob on the door. It was actually just one of those knobs you press downward on. The cat could have done it. Cats weren’t very smart. “Is this… what you were trying to do?”

The leopard practically jumped over her head. It darted from the store (club?) as quickly as Lullaby shot out from under Jade’s sofa. That was still a problem, but not her problem – Kaden’s. Finally, the breath hissed out from her lungs and that big, black window shattered. Maybe that would have been easier after all, but Regan was not eager to subject another animal to the sound of her scream. Not until she had to again. She stepped over the glass, giving the room a final, curious glance. No turtlenecks at all. Not even a thread. Felix led them astray. She pulled out her Blackberry, thumbing carefully over the cracked screen, and located Yelp. (They did not have Yell in Wicked’s Rest.) She found The Stripe Club’s page. True to what Felix said, there were many reviews, but none of them contained any text.

She was going to leave the first.

1 out of 5 scars. No turtlenecks. Even fewer jackets. Would be 2 for the decor, but I have subtracted 1 due to the leopard infestation and optical illusions. Possibly a strip club for mimes. Do not purchase clothes here. What are these stars for? I am allotting only 1 of those as well.

#writing #c felix #animal abuse tw

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bee-writes-stuffs · 1 year ago

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i’m not sorry- Davey Jacobs

Davey’s hands shook slightly as he felt Spot’s eyes bore into the back of his head. The file he held in his hands felt heavier than it had been a few moments ago, like the contents were begging to be dropped into the churning river below them. “You want me to do what?” He asked, blinking in disbelief. “That’s idiotic, Spot.”

”Jesus, Jacobs,” the shorter newsie complained. “You’re actin’ like I want you to kill someone.”

“If my mom ever finds out about this, I’ll be the one getting killed,” Davey retorted. “You know how much she values all these little papers.”

“Sure, sure.” Spot snorted, pushing past Davey and climbing up onto the railing. “C’mon, I just spent a hundred-somethin’ dollars to get us on this boat- ain’t you gonna drop that crap in?” He spread out his arms like a bird’s wings, yelling in the wind, “That’s what we came here for, Dave, to let that bullshit go!”

Logically, there was no reason Davey should have held back from dropping those papers in the river and calling it a day. All of them were symbols of his life from middle school until graduation- spelling bee certificates, awards from competitions he could never remember competing in, letters from teachers praising how good of a student he was and how far they were sure he’d go, notes from counselors and psychiatrists congratulating him on how far he’d come in recovery. Mementos from class trips, old report cards that his mother had hung proudly on the fridge while Davey beamed behind them… everything.

He swallowed any words, the shake in his hands traveling to his legs, making him wobble on his feet. “I don’t think I can…” he answered, his voice choking involuntarily. “I’m sorry.”

Spot’s face softened, and he hopped down to Davey. “Hey, Jacobs,” he said, placing a hand on Davey’s shoulder. “Don’t be sorry, ‘kay? It ain’t your fault that it’s hard to let go.” The tone of his voice told Davey that he meant it, that he understood, and a weak smile found its way to his face.

Spot smiled back, patting him on the shoulder and then gesturing to the water beside the boat, whose driver had slowed down to a crawl. “Plus, you’re not sorry- not really.”

Davey raised an eyebrow. “I’m not…” he paused, something clicking in his mind. “I’m not sorry,” he said, more definite this time. “No, I’m not. I’m not sorry.” His smile grew wider as he sorted through the papers, picking one from middle school that had A+ Student printed on it in bubble letters. He glanced at it one last time, cringing slightly for the smiling, cartoon-y characters on the page and what he was about to do.

Taking the paper in both hands, setting the file down on the deck, he ripped the paper in two. “I’m not sorry!” He cried, crumpling up the paper and throwing it into the river.

Spot stepped back and smiled kindly. “For what?” He asked, egging him on. “What’re you not sorry for?”

“I’m not sorry for getting the hell out of that town as soon as I could,” Davey replied. “I’m not sorry for… for changing my name. For cutting my hair.” He glared at the soggy pieces of paper left behind in the boat’s wake, the ones with Hana scrawled on them. He picked up another piece of paper- a participation award from the seventh grade spelling bee that his mother had never thrown away- and crumpled it up.

“I’m not sorry for kissing Lukas Fordman in tenth grade,” he yelled into the empty, laughing at Spot’s confused face, picking up another paper. “I’m not sorry for wearing that ugly-ass brown suit to prom, and I’m not sorry for spilling punch on Regan Allen when she called me that name.” Those last words were spit out, a mix of anger, relief, and excitement as memories spilled back to him. “I’m not fucking sorry!” He screamed. “I’ll never be sorry!”

Soon, with every confession and taken-back apology, all of the papers, all of the memories of his miserable life before, were gone. Davey stepped back, his hair messed up by the wind and his chest heaving with the effort of screaming. “Fuck you,” he said to the bits of paper sinking into the water, holding up his middle finger. Spot threw an arm around him, tousling his hair, the two of them laughing with joy and adrenaline coursing through their veins.

“See?” Spot grinned, patting Davey’s shoulder. “I told you it’d feel better once you let that shit go.”

“Thank you,” Davey said, pulling his friend into a hug. “I needed this.”

“I know,” Spot replied simply, as the boat pulled back onto the docks and the captain helped them ashore. “Don’t ever apologize for yourself ever again, alright?”

Davey nodded, staring off into the afternoon sky, sweating in the hot air yet feeling chills travel up his spine, like he’d just seen the final number of a heart-wrenching show. “I know.” He smiled again, placing a hand on his heart. “Never again.”

What’s there to apologize for when I’m finally free?

#david jacobs #newsies musical #spot conlon #livesies #newsies #trans davey #Davey’s totally a former gifted kid #I will fight anyone on this #davey jacobs #davey newsies

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whoa-where-did-the-pancakes-go · 1 year ago

Note

regan please give me a hug and cuddles and pats and all that shit you are the one thing keeping me calm tonight (btw i finally managed to eat some food)

Hugs!!! And cuddles and pats!!! You're gonna be okay <333

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muertarte · 1 year ago

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PARTIES: @highoctanegem @muertarte

TIMING: Last Night

SUMMARY: Metzli goes to meet Liam, only to find Jenna (Jade) instead. She asks questions, waiting for the opportunity to attack. When she does, she finds that it's not so easy to finish the job thanks to a promise.

WARNINGS: None

Jade wasn’t nervous. Pft. Nerves were so not her thing. But if she had to call it something, she’d say… the vibes were kinda off. Yup, that was it. And normally, if the vibes were that bad, she would’ve gone home. (Correction, she would’ve been at the club). But she couldn’t go this time. Because Regan had asked her (Liam) to get this done. And who was she to deny a pretty girl’s request?

If she were to be like, kinda honest with herself Jade could’ve admitted she felt a little vulnerable without her crossbow, though. Face to face wasn’t high in her hunting repertoire (Plus, she liked to use her physicality in different endeavors). Obviously, she had to get close for the staking, but she always liked making sure her hunts had several bolts in them before she jumped to seal the deal. The way Regan spoke of their friend, though… it sounded like their turmoil was already deep seated. It probably wouldn’t be much of a struggle.

(Ideally, she could be home by 9. She was totally digging the show Cass had recommended and she needed to keep binging) (Oooh, and maybe she could get some tacos on the way home. Yup).

Not as ideal? Being outdoors. Seriously, how did people enjoy it? (There was literally…a giant turd a few feet away) but Jade had to give the appearance of friendliness, right? The little shed behind her totally looked like a place a professional would hide. And the cracked bench missing half an arm? Super cozy.

Liam (the man of the hour) was snug inside her oversized jacket, for easy access.The rest of the band safely in her bag. A knife was tucked on the backside of her belt. But Jade was confident it wouldn’t come to that.

Noticing the figure approach, her skin thrummed in confirmation. Her target. And wow, did Regan forget to mention how tall her friend was. (They totally had a whole foot on her, possibly more). They were striking too, that type of bone structure that would’ve had Jade skipping a beat any other time. If it weren’t for the whole undead situation. That usually dried her up like…super fast. But she still had eyes, that was all. And she still cared about this poor being, confined to this cruel fate.

(Showtime)

“Hi!” her eyes sparkled warm and friendly as she waved her hand. “Regan’s friend, right? Or, ‘not friend,’ she added quotations at the end, and sprinkled an eyeroll. “She loves to pretend she doesn’t care, right?” nothing brought to people closer than complaining about a third. And Regan? As much as Jade lo– cared for her was a damn pain in the ass. “I know she does, though. Cause they wanted you to meet Liam. He’ll be here soon, pinky promise” She sat on the bench, patting the empty spot beside her. She had to remove height out of the equation, somehow. “Would you like to chat with me a little bit? I’ll be quick. I just…I don’t super get what’s going on? Regan mentioned something about vampires?”

The night welcomed its child of darkness as it always did. Metzli slid into the shadows, watching the woman for a few moments. It was strange, to them, that she was named Liam. They were pretty sure that was a male name, but who were they to judge? The year 2023 came with a lot of change, and they had a lot of catching up to do.

For all Metzli knew, it was just a coincidence that she was there too. They watched for a few moments longer, deciding on what the best course of action would be. If they were going to get the help Regan so desperately wanted them to get, they’d need to get her to move on.

“Hello,” Oh. So, she was Liam, then. Confusion was on the brink of contorting their face, but they kept it blank, voice matching. “She does not like to admit we are friends, no. But she cares.” Metzli’s eyes scanned the woman, brow twitching, on the verge of ticking up curiously. There was no way Regan enjoyed talking to her. She was too much. “She just only cares for the right people.”

What they said wasn’t meant to be a jab, just the simple truth, but they knew they had a knack of insulting people without meaning to. Hopefully she didn’t take their words the wrong way. She seemed to have a mouth that really made someone regret talking to her at all.

Okay, another surprise then. Liam was connected to the woman, not her. Why would the help require two people when Regan only mentioned one? Nerves dug into Metzli like needles, their fist curling tightly as they watched the stranger curiously. Something felt off, and they needed to figure it out. “What is your name?” Slowly, Metzli took a seat at the far side of the bench, careful to not touch their back to rest. They kept their eyes on her through their periphery, hand ready to reach for their knife if need be. “What kind of help will this be? Maybe I wait for Liam since he is the one helping me. I was told to trust Liam. Not a stranger.”

“That she does,” Jade agreed, her smile intact. It was entirely possible she wasn’t in the ‘right people’ category. It was a strong suspicion already. Regan did have questionable taste after all. And as much as she really wanted to figure why this very climbable person was deemed exceptionally tolerable while she got all kinds of backhanded compliments, it wasn’t the time. (Granted, she really wished it was always Jade time) (Believe it or not, when she turned 25, her vanity did go from 10 to a 9… so you know, a time and a place. Or whatever).

She studied the other calmly, picking up on the wheels turning in their head. That wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. As long as the dots didn’t connect, Jade was still in control. “Oh! So rude. Jenna. My name’s Jenna. Nice to meet ya” she answered quick, plainly. The way one would answer the truth. It was hardly the first time she’d used a fake name for something. (She usually liked something with a little more flair, but Jenna would work for tonight) (Tonight wasn’t about flair). The questions were understandable, obviously, though kind of annoying. (Was that what people felt when she was being nosy?) (Nah. Impossible, she was delightful). “Liam’s not very good with words. You know what I mean? Not all of us are” she explained, ensuring she didn’t sound too polished. “I help facilitate all that? In a way. Do the talking, I guess…”

Her smile blossomed when the stranger joined her on the bench. And yeah, they still had inches and inches on her, but it was something. “You should trust Liam. And Regan” she nodded, eyes narrowed, appealing to their bond. (Nope, not even a little jealous). “That’s a good question” Jade pursed her lips, pretending to think. “I’d say…the kind of help that should hopefully take away the pain you must’ve been carrying all these years” her speech had slowed down, voice dropping into something comforting. The pinch of her eyebrows showed nothing but genuine concern. Onyx’s words echoed again. Most of them didn’t ask to become monsters. Whatever atrocities they commit, it’s only instinctual. She wasn’t here to judge, only to put them out of their misery. “Is it true then? You’ve been hungry lately? Have you hurt people? I wouldn’t ask this if Liam didn’t need it”.

“Jenna. Okay. I will…still wait for Liam. I am visiting for Liam. Not you.” And please stop talking.

Irritation crawled up the vampire’s spine, nails digging in and grating with a screech like a chalkboard. Did this woman ever stop talking? How did Regan deal with this? Did she have to suffer this way too? Or was all contact through Liam? If that was the case, Metzli was incredibly envious. Who would want to sit through such torture? Sure, Jenna was beautiful, but her urge to fill up silence with dribble made her a bit…repulsive. She didn’t even have good posture!

“I do not know Liam. I know Regan. I trust her only right now.” Metzli kept their face forward, their periphery abandoned in lieu of scanning the area. If Liam’s punctuality was any indication of the quality of his work, Metzli was sure Regan would understand if they left. How good could the help be if he required the help of someone so talkative and he was late to a meeting he set up? Yes, Regan would understand, Metzli was sure of it. They weren’t going to stay a moment longer, suffering through Jenna’s awful voice and unnecessary fluff.

Wait. What did she say? They could just explain this to Liam, right? Why was she digging so much? Unless…had Regan concocted a plan to bring swift justice? She would never lie, though. And she had compiled to her friend’s wishes to admit that she cared so they could get help. Was she lied to as well? How cruel, really. She truly just wanted to help, if their calculations were correct. Regan didn’t know much of this world, and they could only assume that flaw was going to hurt them both. She really needed to fix that if she was so determined to be perfect.

Metzli turned to look at Jenna, her voice concerned and almost pleading. Her expression matched, for the most part. Except the eyes. There was something hungry in them, on the brink of spilling into kind violence? Well, sort of. Honey was very good at kind violence, but Metzli could only assume that wasn't the sort of knife play Jenna had in mind. But, they decided to comply. If only to distract enough to reach for their knife.

“You are annoying.” Metzli paused, taking a breath. “I have not hurt anyone this past month. In past? Yes. Master teach us to kill for him and build his army, but I am free now.” Their hand wrapped around the hilt of their knife, thumb unlatching the holster. “I do what I need to feed in new world I do not know, but I am learning. There are many ways to feed and protect, even now, with strange energy making hunger worse.”

It wasn’t too hard to pick up on the irritation. Though Jade couldn’t be sure if it was glaringly obvious or not. You grow up surrounded by volatile emotions and you get really good at spotting even the slightest change in breathing. (That totally counted as being a people’s person, right?) (She was like, such an empath).

“I get that a lot” Jade smirked, nose scrunching up in amusement. A small pause in their conversation was needed for her to properly laugh. Then hazel eyes blinked, curious. She wondered what they were trying to achieve with the comment. Probably nothing, probably just an observation (the wrong one, but not everyone could have good taste) (Just look at Regan). Despite the reticence to engage with her, the vampire still ended up speaking, sharing brief pieces of what Jade imagine was a long, tormented existence. A pang of pain nestled in her chest, hurting for what they’ve been through. What they’ve been forced to do. A tragedy, really. It always was. Onyx’s words rang truer than ever. But she could stop that.

She sensed the movement of their one arm, and Jade sighed. It didn’t look like the vampire wanted to talk. She wished monsters wouldn’t resort to violence so quickly. Then again, it was an inescapable part of their being. The need to satiate something, fill the gaping hole in their chest. A tender smile crossed her features. They spoke of their curse as if there was anything that could be done. As if they were infallible. As if their thirst wasn’t animalistic. It would’ve been beautiful, to believe that level of control could exist. (And then she could like, make hunting a side hustle, instead of the full time gig) (Cause the aesthetic was fun and all, but it was a little too much work for her). But that so wasn’t the case. It had never worked like that.

It would never work like that. Accidents happened. Bloodthirst overpowered everything.

Jade kept her eyes level with the stranger, her attention on the hand sneaking for the knife. She’d be faster. She liked her odds, on the account of the extra hand and all. “I just want you to know, I truly am very sorry for the pain your master put you through. It’s…it’s senseless. But it’s okay. You won’t be hurting anymore. You won’t have to keep relieving all the pain you’ve caused, all the lives you’ve taken. It’ll be over, alright? You’re forgiven”.

Liam was between her fingers before she could finish blinking, the vampire quickly drawing the knife as well. She was ahead, but only for so little, so she couldn’t take a moment to watch the pain of this monter vanish from their eyes. She couldn’t bask in a job well done. She struck fast, sharp stake sinking right in the middle of their chest, ending the suffering of another one.

Or…it had been the intention.

The weapon slipped through her fingers, suddenly weighing more than she could lift. It bounced pathetically, from the vampires lap, to the ground, right next to the turd. (Liam did always have a tendency to flop). But Jade didn’t have time to deal with the misfire, cause there was an extremely tall vampire brandishing a knife at her. (Well, shoot). She did what she could, reaching for her own blade, but knowing time wouldn’t be on her side this time.

Speed was normally something the vampire was good at, instinct and reaction time in perfect sync. That wasn’t the case when Jenna went in for the attack, though. A stake went right for their chest, and Metzli was powerless to stop it. Their hand moved to grab ahold of Jenna’s wrist, but by the time their flesh made contact with hers, the tip was millimeters away from sinking into their most vulnerable place.

Their life was over now, wasn’t it? Time slowed and they were angry. How would all their work be undone by a pathetic woman who didn’t know how to shut up? Everything Metzli was, was going to amount to dust, a pile on the floor with no distinguishing marks or features for their loved ones to find them. How would Regan autopsy them? Worse yet, she wouldn’t be there for Metzli’s death, something intimate they both wanted. What a waste, really.

No body, no proper burial.

Time resumed, but death would not have them. Metzli swallowed, reacting swiftly to the knife. Their forearm collided with Jenna’s, interrupting the strike with enough force to her muscle to force the knife out of her hand. Metzli swiped their leg into Jenna to drop her, and they pounced, arm cocked back and ready to plunge their knife into her, but…they hesitated. That was what she wanted, they thought, and she couldn’t do the job in the first place. She had them, and she blew it. Metzli couldn’t retaliate. Not when she was probably a newer slayer, and they were not the same monster as before.

“We are done.” They huffed, standing up as they reholstered their knife and prepared to walk away. “You lied and Regan believed you. What you did was wrong. I can kill you, but you are not worth it and it will not be right. I am a good monster now.”

By some miracle, Jade managed to snatch the knife concealed on her backside before the vampire’s blade sank into her. By miracle, she managed to get a good grip on the handle, unlike Liam. (Liam was slippery, why did she pick it?) (It should’ve always been Niall. Small but reliable). But her luck ran out when she went on to attack, her forearm protesting the move with throbbing pain that was distracting enough for the vampire’s forceful knock to feel like tickling instead. The knife, of course, flew off her hand. Crap.

Where it landed, Jade wasn’t privy to as a strong leg came for her. Ooof. On her back, and not even in a fun way. But thankfully, the bench was missing an arm, otherwise she would’ve been totally knocked out. She remained unblinking, trying to read where the blow was coming. Maybe if she turned at the right time it would land somewhere non-vital. She had the advantage of height now. But the monster keep hovering over her and okay…it was super confusing. She didn’t really care for whatever mental battle they were going through, (not right now, at least) but she welcomed the hesitation, stretching an arm to find Liam on the ground. Little traitor was back to weighing the same? What on earth? She waved it to them, a silent promise of violence in the air.

“A good monster, hm?” Jade cackled, and okay, alright, there was no need to sound like a sinister villain. It was hilarious though. Were they hearing themself? An oxymoron! The only good monster was Lady Gaga’s. The nerve of trying to equate themself to such a masterpiece. Though, if they were going to leave her beautiful cheekbones intact, who was she to instigate the opposite? She wasn’t dumb, just… apparently in an extended flop era.

(Was this how Taylor Swift felt during ‘Lover’? Okay, there was no need to go that low) (And no, she totally had no other vampire related experiences to compare this flop to, why?)

Getting morality lessons from a killing machine was totally tickling her, all things considered. The day kept getting better. Yup, lying was so bad…What about all those skeletons in your closet, though? Jade wondered if they even saw the irony. Slowly, she pressed Liam to the vampire's chest again, taunting them. It was all she could do. No matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t sink further. Her arm, her head…something was getting in the way. Smashing that block button, so to speak. When she had tried the knife, it was as if her arm would rather fall before letting her stick that blade. She’d figure it out. She could ask Emilio. She was definitely asking Regan. As it was always the case, she’d leave the thinking for when she wasn’t underneath a chiseled giant.

The monster put their knife away, and Jade grinned. Whew, crisis averted. No one was scared. She inhaled, and the switch flipped again, a glowering gaze contradicting the kindness laced in her tone. “Okay, babe. But when the time comes, and you realize the darkness you have inside will never leave you, that there’s no way to outrun it… when you’re teetering on the edge of insanity and you want everything to go away? You can come to me, I’ll be waiting. I call dibs, in fact” she sat back on the bench, tightening the already flimsy ponytail taming her curls. She shrugged, stashing Liam away with the rest of the band. (Thanks for nothing, loser).

Her lips tightened up, sweet yet pitiful. “I’ll be so heartbroken to hear about how you hurt your lover, or your friend…maybe even an innocent stranger and you just couldn’t help yourself. But I won’t judge. I’ll ease the pain, I can promise you that”. Jade rose from the bench, thinking for a second to shake on it, but that felt like asking to get punched in the face. Which reminded her… “But thank you for keeping my face intact, I knew I’d grow on you”.

#wickedswriting #bloody ink #writings #misstakes are deadly #c: jade #jade and metzli

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