#severine writing

[snakemoltsiren]

Has your character ever undertaken a morally questionable act they knew was wrong but would contribute to a greater good? How did they wrestle with that? How do they feel about it now?

Severine was - and to no small extent still is - a professional con artist. She has done it for quite a while at this point, even if she doesn't exactly need to to get by. She only grifted from those who could afford it - no small number of Ul'dah well off fell victim to her at some point. For a little while she did it for her own good alone. To get by. To make some money. Somewhere along the way it became far more common for her to steal for the betterment of others rather than herself. As she became more confident in both the local politics and in her own skills, she had unspoken arrangements with numerous groups of refugees. The majority of the money she got from the Ul'dah elite went to job training and placement, provisions and shelter for dozens if not hundreds of people. At some point along the way she earned a moniker - Saint Savage. A nickname that she's more than happy to be known by. Severine has done a lot of things in her past that she's not proud of, and she works every day to atone for them. But she has absolutely no regrets about anything that others might call into question morally, as long as in the end it benefited someone who needed her help. (thank you so much as always for the question SEA!!! <3)

[flos-obsessivus]

The Yandere Types:

Lilian, Prince of the Rosen Kingdom

"Having an aggrandized opinion of their love interest, these yandere characters see themselves as insignificant compared to their love interest."

--Worshipper type, The dere types wiki

The sweet prince loves real and true, willing to give everything he has in order to get his true loves affection. Lilian only sees YOU as his True Love, his gift, his one and only. To him, you are above all, everything that he is, and everything that he will be is all for you.

Ivory, Vampire King of monsters

"Believing that they are all their love interest needs, these yandere characters seek to remove other people from their love interest's life."

-- Removal type, The dere types wiki

Ivory's jealousy runs deep, often times manifesting into an ugly monster of wrath and bloodlust. No creature, human nor monster, will be able to survive when the vampire goes on a rampage. Nothing will get between him and you, and if someone does... May God show mercy on them for Ivory will not spare any.

Severin, King of the Thorne Kingdom

"Desiring their love interest to be with them literally always, these yandere characters make sure the love interest won't leave their side now or in the future. They can use promises, deals, contracts or just simply make sure the love interest is content where they are so they won't ever think about leaving."

-- Restraints type, The dere types wiki

A king who fears being abandoned. He lives his day to day being perceived as cold and cruel, but only you know the truth. He fears the day when you finally leave him, which is why he does everything in his power to keep you by his side, be it as his retainer or his servant, there is not a day where he will seek you out in the guise of him needing your help. Luckily, your loyalty to him seems to suppress the worse of his yandere tendencies, so please... don't ever think of leaving him.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Moon (pt. 3)

Lunicurrent - related to changes in currents that depend on the moon's phases.

Luniform - moon-shaped.

Lunula - something shaped like a crescent or half-moon; especially the pale area at the base of the fingernail.

Mooncalf - a fool, dolt, monster, or aborted fetus.

Moonglade - the bright reflection of moonlight on a body of water.

Moonraker - the top-most sails on some old sailing ships.

Novilunar - of the new moon.

Plenilunar - of the full moon.

The Moon...

Is the Earth’s only “natural” satellite.

Is moving away from the Earth.

Is 27% the size of the Earth.

Orbits the Earth every 27.32 days.

NOTES

There are 2-5 lunar eclipses yearly.

You would weigh 1/6th of your Earth weight on the Moon.

We only ever see half of the Moon at a time, even at “full moon”.

The light reflecting off the Earth and onto the Moon is called “earthshine” or “earthlight”.

In many languages, as in English, the word for “moon” is cognate with the word for “month”.

It takes the moon 29.53 days to cycle back to the same “visual” phase. This is called a “synodic month”.

A lunar calendar is a calendar based on cycles of the Moon's phases (synodic months), in contrast to solar calendars based on the solar year.

The Moon illusion is an optical illusion which causes the Moon to appear larger near the horizon than it does higher up in the sky.

Sometimes it’s possible to see the moon rabbit, or the shadowy face of the Man in the Moon created by lunar maria.

In the northern hemisphere, when the Moon is waxing, it resembles a letter “D”, and when waning a letter “C”. In the southern hemisphere this is reversed.

About 40% of the Moon is never visible from the Earth. This is referred to as the Dark Side of the Moon, even though it isn’t always dark.

Every month or so, the “old moon” sets for the last time as a sliver in the eastern sky. For about 3 days it travels invisibly alongside the sun until, magically born anew, it appears on the third day at sunset, on the western horizon. This course not only sets the moon in direct opposition to the sun, it also gives rise to various resurrection myths in which the hero spends 3 days in the underworld.

IN THE ARTS

In some myths, the lunar deity is represented as female (Greek, Chinese), while in others it is male (Mesopotamian , Germanic, Japanese).

In mythology, the moon deity is sometimes a friend, ally or consort of the sun deity, and sometimes their enemy.

In many mythical stories, a simple character mistakes the reflection of the Moon for a round cheese.

The Moon is the 18th card of the Major Arcana of the Tarot. It represents the mysterious terrain of the Shadow self, illuminated by the guiding light of the conscious.

Shakespeare calls the moon the “moist star” because it creates the tides, and also casts it as inconstant (because of its phases) and thieving (because it steals its light from the sun).

Georges Méliès shot the first science fiction film, Le Voyage dans la Lune (A Trip to the Moon) in 1902.

The Lunar Society of Birmingham, consisting of eminent 18th century intellectuals, was so named because its members met on nights with a full moon. The moonlight made their journey back home easier and safer.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was originally titled, Sonata quasi una fantasia, and only acquired its popular name after his death.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ The Moon ⚜ Word Lists

[secretly-of-course]

Well! I did it! My big Steve x Katya fic is officially finished! Have some kisses for Steve to celebrate!

Word count: 61,815

Summary: Through a series of chance meetings Steve, a loyal scout in the Emperor's Coven, gets to know Katya, an intriguing witch who has had her fair share of clashes with the Emperor's system. He finds himself drawn to her but there's a problem--she only knows him outside of uniform.

And here's a bonus Severine with a tiny cat :3

[wanderingmind867]

I like Green Lantern and Flash and Hawkman and all these DC characters, but the writing style begins to drag on me. No disrespect to John Broome or Gardner Fox, but they're not like Stan Lee (for better or worse). Stan Lee writes with a bombastic nature, an exaggerated sense of comedy seamlessly blending with his narration and dialogue in his stories. Gardner Fox and John Broome wrote a lot more basically, with great ideas (but less of a cultivated image surrounding themselves).

I think I would recognize Stan Lee and his marvel bullpen. To use all his nicknames: Smiling Stan (The Man) Lee, Rascally Roy (The Boy) Thomas, Jolly Jack (King) Kirby, Genial Gene (The Dean) Colan, Marie (The She) Severin, Happy Herby Trimpe, Marvelous Marv Wolfman, etc. DC would never do silly things like this. I don't think half their writers had nicknames. But Stan Lee gave out enough nicknames that I found a whole wikipedia page about it. He kept it fun in the 60s.

Apparently Jim Shooter may have cut back on the nicknaming, although I know Roy Thomas and Marv Wolfman kept it going while they were editors. And it was a cool, unique thing that made Marvel great. I've been trying to read DC comics lately, but I still miss Stan Lee's bombastic nature. And the fact that marvel usually always credited people. DC never really credited people in the 60s. And that's unfair. So DC definitely had problems. And they needed to work on them.

[ramssby]

this world needs more fem snape in snarry fics, whether yuri or straight i just needd her

[handma1denofvenus]

Severin x Wanda

Venus in Furs

(Basically imagine severin fucking sobbing as he scribbles this into his diary with doodled broken hearts all in the margins and the paper stained with his tears) (while he tries not to listen to the Greek rocking Wanda's world in the next room over. That is it. That is the context.....)

_________________________________________

My neck stained with fingerprint bruises

Maroon, lilac, and chartreuses

What an ass I am to thank thee

Who holds the nooses

My statue of Venus

My garden of Eden

Strike me down

Or cast me out

And still you'll find me

Kneeling at your feet

(Ps plz stop fucking the Greek ;O)

_______________________________________

ORIGINAL CONTENT!!! NO OTHER SIMP COULD HAVE WRITTEN THIS BUT I!!!

[vanmarkham]

character voice tag

tagged by @foxboyclit and my dialogue is "i am not what you wanted"

i got a teensy bit wordy w the action hmmm but lol still posting it, thank you for the tag!!

Rules: Rewrite a line of dialogue from the person who tagged you in the voice of your OCs! (You can include a beat of action to help establish character if you want.) Pass on the tag with a new line of dialogue.

Gideon: His voice is tight when he speaks, shaping his words carefully, not quite meeting their gaze. “We will never see eye to eye, I… I would sooner die than revoke my oath to the Chantry. You must accept this if we are to carry on. You can’t keep waiting for me to change.”

Grant: His laugh is a huff of exasperation, hand pulling through the strands of his dark, messy hair. “Maker, what do you want from me? I’m not your blasted savior, your revolutionary. I’m just trying to fucking survive.”

Cyril: There was a time the Queen looked at him with admiration, he’d even go so far as to say desire. All he sees now is hate and contempt. Cyril rises to his full height, a towering presence of horns and wings and the warped power of the Abyss. “I hope you enjoyed murdering my troops while you sent me on that wild goose chase, your Majesty. Drezen no longer requires your aid, you shall either leave of your own accord or the Balors will escort you.” His expression is schooled as coolly as hers but he can’t help the twinge of regret when met with the strength of her ire. It’s a distant thing.

Severin: “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before, Mother Dearest. I’ll never lure a man with my feminine wiles if I spend half my time gallivanting about as a man. What was it Lord Daveth said? ‘Sev’s a right lad, can drink you under the table with the best of them, but I need a wife.’” Her voice is mocking, deep and low in the best impression of the Lord they can make while slumped gracelessly on a couch, wine sloshing in their glass with each drunken gesture. Stings less like that.

i tag @lords-of-fortune and @amatres anddd @space-writes with a good ol' angsty "i'm sorry" as your dialogue prompt

[dragons-ire]

#15 Portentous

The rains rolled in the desert without much warning. Ominous black clouds rolling in out of a clear sky, a long shadow cast over the earth. The smell of petrichor in the air, and then the deluge.

Huhubici Jujubici sat at the front of his trade caravan, squinting over the chocobos heads as they pulled in to Camp Drybone. The rain washed the roads, threatened to hold up travel.

Wouldn’t do to get stranded out in the mud. Better to weather over here until it passed.

With luck, the local Brass Blades could be convinced not to inspect the cargo too closely.

His bodyguard stood with his arms folded while Huhubici jumped down to the ground. A wasn’t half a dozen 

“HEY! Watch it.” He yelled out, turning to see who it was

“Sorry!” A pair of young voices called back, waving as they ran past. A pair of elezen young enough to not have their height yet, a pale-haired one just a little taller than (his? her?) blue-haired and skinned comrade. They paused under an awning, still soaking wet from the rain to whisper to each other.

“...looks like the rain washed all the garbage clear out of the Shroud.” Grumbling, Huhubici turned up his collar and continued his hurried way towards the dingy inn for a little respite. The small party burst in the door, wringing water out of their clothes.

Just himself, his personal security detail. The drivers, the chocobos, the rest of the guards should be fine in the elements and in the wagons for now.

The only other inhabitants in the main room when his small party shuffled in were crowded around a corner table. They didn’t look up - a large Roegadyn man conferring with a shorter miqo’te woman. Another elezen - quite a few of them here today for such a small town - off to the side, watching the door without seeming to watch anyone coming through.

Huhubici deliberated for all of half a second before stomping over. 

“Are those your kids out there?” He demanded. The elezens gaze (how eyes that orange color could look so cool) shifted down to regard him.

“...were they causing you trouble?” They asked in return. “I’m deeply sorry if they were.”

“They need to watch where they’re going, or they’re going to seriously hurt someone.” Huhubici went on, folding his arms.

“I see. Again, I’m very sorry. I’ll be sure to have a word with them about being more careful.” The older elezen finished, then turned back to their drink and the conversation.

 If Huhubici hasn’t beent so miserably damp and tired, he might have been ready to demand more for the indignation. As it was, he just waited, seeing if there was more to that apology.

When nothing came, he made a small sound in the back of his throat, turning to the bodyguards. 

“Come on, let’s go.” And turned towards the long bar counter to head that way.

2019 Prompt: Wilt

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

[the-baschet]

#23 - Suit

Continued from #18 - A Fish Out of Water

Severin looked as if he fit right in; his silken midnight tresses always seemed to frame the ghostly features of his sunken mien perfectly and his posture spoke that of a nobleman in some respect. The uniform he suggested for all of them to don may have complimented him the most though he had a more specific reason in his choice of garb in mind. A reason he only got to enjoy for a moment.

In contrast, Chance’s shoulders rounded as he lingered about the snack foods with his lofty companion, bidding the other’s demands without complaint. His darting eyes and meekness made it clear how out of his element he was while endless streams of sighs groaned in and out of him.

“Really? That’s how you two want to spend the next few... four, five bells?” A lean Midlander in their same black and ivory formalwear waltzed up to the pair of sulking Elezen with a wide grin stretching his tanned face. “There’s music, food, ladies that are looking at us.” He glanced to his left, their right, at a table of overly dressed Elezen staring at the trio, though namely, staring at Severin.

To which the man sipped from his glass, a long, nearly provocative drain, until he handed the empty cup to the Hyur. “Nicholas, you were always good at entertainment, mayhap you could keep them busy? I might have heard them whispering something about you before you arrived here, you know? About a swarthy man with scars littering his face, how courageous he might be and the sort.”

Whatever Nicholas’ reaction may have been, Severin saw none of it, already walking past him for one of the vacant balconies to spend his time. The ornate balustrade held the weight of his elbows and then some, vehemently wishing for the night to advance into the morrow though his expression remained as bleak as ever.

“Severin! Pray, don’t leave me alone like that...” Chance followed him outside, far too young and dependent to feel a sense of confidence on his lonesome.

“You did not wish to keep Nicholas and the others company?”

“Everyone else is already talking to someone, and you know how awkward I am.” Admitting such a thing aloud tinted his sallow neck and ears just a tad. “I just want this over with; they all keep staring...”

“You and me both, Chance. We must hope and wish that our dear lord keeps us lesser people in mind... Or mayhap I might end it early with a mishap.” A devilish smirk cracked his wintry disposition as he pulled a glittering ruby from the breast of his coat.

Chance hurried closer to the other, snatching Severin’s hand just to quickly yank himself back. “Stop messing around,” he whispered in great distress.

A large laugh shook Severin over the railing, turning to face Chance in his lounge with a sudden mark of enjoyment coloring his expression. “Oh, you know I would never. This is too important a time anyroad and I will not be the one to ruin it for him. Should anyone of us fall out of line, I will deal with them personally though I have confidence not all of us are witless.”

Chance merely peered over his comrade’s unusual countenance, noting the pleased curl of his lips and strange lift of his eyes. Seeing him actually not dour for once brought an easy smile to his own face. “Right, and I’ll help you with keeping everyone in line too.”

“Of course. We need only wait until Matti is freed and then the night will hurry along much faster.”

Severin peered through the doors which they came wisping a small sigh scarcely heard by Chance. Within remained just as they had left it, Nicholas seeming to truly make a fool of himself in the distance, though it was enough to wipe his face clean of whatever joy he felt a moment ago.

[houserosaire]

Prompt #9: Fair

“It bothers me, father, because it just isn’t fair.”

His father, who had been staring hollowly into the fire the way he so often did of late took a moment to look up. “A lot of things aren’t fair.” He said quietly, and Silvaineaux knew immediately that he was thinking of mother. “But what is it particularly that troubles you, little Silvaineaux?”

He scowled a bit at the nickname. He was still little at fifteen summers, however much he might have hated it. Especially when compared to his father’s towering and sturdy frame, but there was really no need for his father to rub it in so, was there? “Florent.” He said, pushing past that small irritation to address the larger one. “Why couldn’t he be a knight if he wants to? He works hard! He is so good with his spear, sometimes he even knocks me in the dirt.”

His father straightened, turning all the attention in his amber eyes on him. “Florent does work hard doesn’t he?” He conceded. “He might be a talented dragoon if…”

“If his father wasn’t a gamekeeper.” Silvaineaux finished. “But it’s not his fault who his father is and his father is a good man too, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Severin agreed. “Though I do not think his father wants to be a knight either. Does Florent?”

“He does.” Silvaineaux said. “And he practices so hard and we all let him practice and some day I will be a knight and Honore could be a knight if he wanted and he doesn’t even want to, but Florent can’t and it isn’t fair.” Silvaineaux rather expected that his father would give him the same lecture his tutor had about the importance of bloodline and the hereditary courage of the highborn.

Instead Severin simply looked at him, all of his attention fixed on him and his golden eyes as thoughtful as if Silvaineaux’s words were worth every bit of his consideration. “You’re right.” He said at last. “That isn’t very fair is it?”

“No.”

“Well,” Severin said. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do about it?” Silvaineaux asked. “I can’t change who Florent’s father is and I can’t change the law…”

“I mean that if you see something that isn’t fair you should try to correct it, shouldn’t you? The world does not just fall into fairness, it is our job to try to make it fair, if we can. And as a Baron’s son and a knight you will have more power than say… Florent’s father or a stable boy to do so. So what do you think we should do to make it fair, Silvaineaux?”

“We can’t just change the law, can we?” He asked hopefully.

His father chuckled, and Silvaineaux thought it was good to hear because he had not heard his father’s laughter in a long time. “We cannot.” Severin said, reaching out to pat his shoulder. “I do not have anything like that sort of power, but born nobility is not the only way for a man to earn a knighthood. He might perform some great deed of valor as a soldier. Very very long ago the first Silvaineaux earned our lands and titles thus.”

“But that seems so hard.” 

“It is.” Severin conceded. “And many that try find their way to the Fury’s halls rather than the sort of glory they would seek. But there is another way. We might sponsor him as a candidate, if you like. If you think he is good enough and would work hard enough and would like that. He would still have to earn it. But we have the power to make it a little easier. Would you like us to do that?”

Silvaineaux nodded. “I would. That seems a bit more fair.”

“Well then, I will do what I can.”

“Just because I asked?”

Severin smiled. “Just because you asked… and a bit because I have seen him in the practice yards and I think you are right.”

Silvaineaux settled down on the sofa beside his father and after a moment one strong arm settled around his shoulders and pulled him close. He said nothing for a moment just basked in that warmth as they stared into the fire together.

“I am proud of you for speaking to me about this.” His father said at last. “For noticing and seeking to right something that bothered you. You should always try to do that when you can.”

“I  will.”

[snakemoltsiren]

18. what is something they wish to try? why haven't they tried this yet?

Severine is very happy with her current relationship. It fulfills her emotionally, mentally and physically. Anything she or her partner are interested in, they can talk about and typically receive enthusiastic consent. She would be the first person to tell you how incredibly lazy she is - including in the bedroom. Not quite a pillow princess - her partner's enjoyment is incredibly important to her and she doesn't mind doing the work - but hey, if she doesn't have to? She won't. If she can turn her brain off and just go along with it? Great. However... There's a deep-buried part of her that wants her partner completely at her mercy. Following every word and demand to the letter. Just to see. She would never suggest or try to do this, however, because she doesn't trust herself. Because she knows that it's possible to achieve this. That with just the right pitch in her voice she can demand anything. And it's an aspect of her own power that scares her more than anything else. Plus honestly? Because her current relationship is so ideal, so incredibly giving and nurturing on both sides, she doesn't need to demand anything. Even if the thought is still in the back of her mind. At least a little. (thank you so much!! <3 <3)

[flos-obsessivus]

Serverin looks so pretty when he cries uwu

He does!! You should honestly both appreciate it but also be terrified of it. Because let me tell you, although yes, him crying is a very rare sight and he does look very pretty, but have you ever thought why he's crying? Why a level headed and emotionally stable man(on the outside) has tears rolling down his face? Why the tears can't seem to hide the despair and desperation that shines through the tears? Have you?

Never have you seen him him this way, teeth barred and knuckles white with how tightly he's gripping you. And as you gaze upon his tearful eyes, you will soon realize how utterly fucked you are, being at the mercy of this deranged man.

But I agree he does look sooooooooo pretty, there's just something about pretty men crying you know?

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Worksheets: Magic & Rituals

MAGIC

The People

What are people called who practice it?

Is everyone born with it?

Through ritual or training?

Is it considered "normal"?

Is everyone born with an equal share of it?

How long does it take to acquire?

Is there a magical elite?

Does it manifest from birth?

Why do people wish to acquire it?

Does it change in any way depending on…

Age?

Race?

Or gender?

Mechanics

How is it summoned?

Does it require additional resources?

Are there limits to its use?

Why is it necessary to the world?

What is its source?

What are the consequences of using it?

Is there a limited amount of it in the world?

Are there dangers to using it?

Does it change according to location?

What is it called?

What does it make easier?

What does it make more difficult?

The World

Has it always been in the world?

What events led to its discovery?

What lore has grown up around its use?

Why is it considered magical?

Is it "good" or "evil" or both?

Are there institutions that regulate its use?

What objects or symbols are associated with it?

Does it have a spiritual aspect?

How does it shift the balance of power?

How does it influence politics?

How does it influence human relationships?

How does it influence the environment?

RITES & RITUALS

Rite—a ceremonial act or action Ritual—the established form for a ceremony

Name of rite or ritual:

What transition does this rite or ritual mark?

Is it difficult or painful?

Who undergoes the transformation?

Is the rite or ritual mandatory?

What is the nature of this rite or ritual?

Is it public or private?

Is it dangerous?

Does it involve a sacrifice?

Is there a prize?

What happens if it succeeds?

What happens if it fails?

Who officiates?

Where does it take place?

How long does it last?

Is there a formal ceremony?

Does it change the individual's status in society?

Is it possible to distinguish those who have passed?

Source ⚜ More: On Fantasy Writing References: Plot ⚜ Character ⚜ Worldbuilding

[brinkofdiscovery]

Hunted

Marcello sat frozen, wide eyed, feeling like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws.

 This setting is Gabe’s domain! It belongs to @crash-bump-bring-the-whump. Severin (the creature) is mine. He sucks.

This is a continuation of this piece

Contains: Overheating, Unsafe binding, Stalking, Blood, Gore, Choking, Suffocation, Threats of dismemberment, Guns

__

The air was oppressively hot, as heavy as his clothes that clung to him–soaked with sweat as he made his way through the empty streets. Marcello gripped his bicep as he walked, checking every few blocks to see if the bleeding had stopped and only seeing fresh blood every time.

He tried to wipe sweat from his brow with his free hand, only managing to mix it with the blood that had dripped down his arm and covered his palm. He was nauseous from the heat, dizzy and out of breath. He felt like he should have already passed out. He wanted to stop and strip out of his binder, but he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

Something was following him. He could feel its gaze boring holes into the back of his skull. He had felt it the second he’d ended up here, something at his heels that he couldn’t see when he looked over his shoulder.

He kept walking. He couldn’t run. Whatever was following him… he knew it wanted that. It’d turn this into a chase, and he’d be dead the second it caught him. He scanned the city around him, glancing down every alleyway as he passed it.

“I’ll know it when I see it.” The only descriptor for the location he had. He cursed the fact he hadn’t turned this job down in the first place. “Has an elevator… Know it when I see it.”

“Know it when you see it…” A voice parroted from behind him. Marcello slammed to a stop. In one motion he pulled his gun from his hip and turned off the safety as he whipped around. No one was behind him. Just the empty city blocks stretching on into forever.

“Okay,” Marcello whispered, turning to press his back against the wall as his pulse raced in his ears. “It’s fine, you’re alone. You’re losing it, but you’re alone.”

“Alone…” The voice hummed, somehow still from behind him. A cold hand reached out of the wall; Marcello watched, frozen in place, as featureless black fingers stretched from the shadow and curled around his shoulder. “You have to know by now that’s not true.”

Something like ink soaked into Marcello’s clothes where it touched him. Marcello opened his mouth to speak, words catching in his throat as a second shadowy hand seized his wrist from the other side. The gun clattered to the ground, and whatever was behind him spun him to face the wall.

“Stop! Fuck, what–” He stared up at the wall, at two impossibly long arms stretching out from the brick.  “What the fuck is this?” He tried to pull away, only for the hand on his shoulder to grip him tight, and the one around his wrist to suddenly yank him upward. Marcello’s voice broke in a sudden terrified cry.

Two bright circles lit up against the shadowed wall, like someone had cut through the darkness from the other side. The circles blinked, staring back down at Marcello as a wide, paper cut-out smile spread to life beneath them.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, little thing?” The warped, unholy shape of something close to human emerged from the wall. Empty eyes stared down at Marcello above a cartoonish grin. It was like some freakish shadow puppet come to life, Marcello could see the wall behind it through its expression. “There’s nowhere for you to go down here.”

Marcello silently struggled for words. The creature stared back down at him, still smiling.

The eyes shifted, somehow. Moved across its face as it focused lower on Marcello’s form. The hands holding him in place shifted again, forcing his injured arm into the air as the other arm wrapped like a rope around his neck.

“Ohh! Looks like someone already got to you.” The creature laughed and twisted Marcello’s arm further. It snaked down to look closer at the wound. “Interesting, they didn’t do much to you at all.”

Marcello focused on using his free hand to fight the way the creature’s arm tightened around his neck. It directed its gaze away from his arm again, watching his face with that wide eyed vacant smile as he struggled.

It tightened its grip, pulling him closer to the ground and smiling wider as his feet went out from under him.

“Where were you going?” It asked, voice light and floating.

“Fuck you.” Marcello wheezed.

“Oh, not an answer.” Dark shadows wrapped around Marcello’s legs, pulling him roughly to his knees on the concrete. He stared up with wide eyes to the creature looming over him. The arm around his neck tightened, squeezing tight as Marcello’s vision blurred.

Additional tendrils of darkness, wherever they came from, spread across Marcello’s face, covering his mouth and nose as the pressure around his neck released. His shoulders dropped and his chest heaved, trying desperately to pull in a breath out of reflex. The mask of darkness held tight, suffocating him and keeping him in place as the monster stared down at him.

“Let’s try this again.” It started, looming over Marcello as his lungs screamed for relief. “When I let you go, you tell me where you were off to.”

Marcello would have nodded if he could, but the creature seemed to take his fear as a yes. The shadows unwrapped from his face, and he fell to the ground with a desperate gasp for air.

He could feel it watching him, he swore he could even feel its smile. It tightened its grip around his legs, like it knew his next move was going to be for his gun.

“Well?” That sickeningly gentle voice teased from above. “Do you have an answer for me?”

“I’m…” Marcello managed to prop himself up on his elbows. Whatever black ink the monster was made of dripped from his face and neck; it coated his wrists and mixed with the blood on his skin. “I’m working. I’m looking for someone.”

“Looking for who?” The smile in its voice was clear–so content and proud of itself.

Marcello didn’t look away from the concrete. He just shook his head–a silent refusal.

He could feel impossibly long fingers wind into his hair. The monster pulled his head back, he met paper cut-out eyes with a defiant glare.

“Do you know what I’m made of?” The creature asked.

“Something fucking–nasty?” Marcello could feel it soaking into his hair, threatening to drip down the back of his neck.

It pulled back on Marcello’s hair again, guiding him to sit up on his knees.

“Shadows.” It answered. “Darkness. Which means I fit wherever darkness does. I could crawl inside you right now. Tear you apart from the inside out. Pop you like a little balloon.”

He could feel cool darkness slipping between his parted lips–it gripped his jaw as the other hand twisted in his hair, wrenching his jaw open and holding him in place.

“Looking for who?” It asked again. Marcello sat frozen, wide eyed, feeling like a rabbit in a wolf’s jaws. The creature gripped him tighter, drawing a strained noise from the back of his throat as it forced his mouth open wider.

“Who are they? Could they save you now, lost soul?” Marcello’s voice caught in a whimper as his jaw was strained further. The darkness at his teeth crept closer to the back of his tongue.

Marcello tried to pull away and the creature released him, moving to hold him by the wrists as he coughed and sputtered and choked on the ink in his throat.

“Gabriel!” He answered between strained coughs and gasps. “Gabriel Rivas!”

He kept his eyes closed as he caught his breath, looking up in time to see the creature had fallen still. It stared at him with the same wide eyes, but its smile had vanished.

Tendrils of shadows unwound from Marcello’s wrists and legs, and the creature backed fully away from him. He lunged for his gun, and it let him. When he rolled onto his back to take aim, it was standing where he’d left it, still watching him.

Marcello trembled, staring at the monster over the barrel of his gun. It stared back, empty eyes floating in a featureless black mass.

They watched each other silently. Neither one of them moved. Marcello didn’t pull the trigger. A smile split the darkness before it finally spoke up again.

“You were going the right way.” It motioned to the sidewalk beside them, “Don’t let me stop you.”

—

Marcello didn’t stop running. His chest screamed for mercy, his binder felt like it would crush his ribs if he kept going, but he didn’t stop. He knew the shadow monster wasn’t behind him anymore, but the feeling of being hunted lingered. He kept his gaze ahead, haunted by the screams that echoed through the city and followed him through the streets.

A skyscraper sat at the end of the street, double doors beckoning him as he picked up his pace. It looked generic, overwhelmingly indistinguishable from the buildings around it, but he was drawn towards it. As the double doors opened, the panic in his chest subsided–even as the walls around him stretched into impossibly tall obsidian slabs he felt secure.

He took a moment to slip out of his binder under his tank top, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as the pressure on his lungs was relieved. He let his binder rest around his neck and looked around him. The stranger said he’d know the place when he saw it. This was it.

[secretly-of-course]

Rare pair enjoyers this one is for you!

Pairing: Severine x Morton

Word Count: 1762

Summary: When a tiny cat falls seriously ill, Severine rushes to get some elixir for her. In her haste, she forgets her wallet! Thankfully, the kind potionist from Mr. Elixir is willing to return it to her.