#sitdsnips

[bardicbeetle]

blatant self indulgence - mourning what is not lost

hi it's be sad about daniel hours. you're welcome.

Sometimes there is a mourning for things not had.

The back side of an I love you that begs to grow old together.

They won’t. Him and Jesse.

That’s okay.

Sometimes Daniel thinks without Jesse he wouldn’t be here. It’s true. However much he denies it every time the other two try to press that he does not take well enough care of himself, that he does not value his own life for anything, that he is too quick to offer up a sacrifice unasked for. Maybe he would still be in that little apartment, too bright, but close to the water. Maybe Amalthea would have found him sooner.

He knows what would have happened in one case.

If he’d gone through with it.

Made good on his promise and killed Jesse like he’d asked.

But the truth is that was never going to happen, not even from the start.

So he hadn’t been in love then. It was still impossible to shake Jesse off, to deny him anything but that. The closest thing to standing in sunlight that Daniel could get. The closest thing to being selfish he would allow at the time.

That either of them would.

They are both vastly different people than they were in 1989.

And Daniel cannot wish for a world where they would have been normal. Happy. Short lived.

Because Jesse would have died young.

And a part of Daniel would have died with him.

But sometimes, possibly when he’s in a mood to regret, he wonders what it would have been like to grow old together. Whenever Sarah is around, and he sees lines on her face that would paint Jesse’s the same. When Jesse throws out that he is—technically—nearing sixty. When Daniel remembers he’ll be eighty in a years time.

Most of the time though, he is beyond content with the fact that he will have Jesse for as long as either of them wants. As long as they both feel like continuing to exist. There will be arms to fall asleep in. There will be hands that touch him more gently than he deserves. There will be a smile so bright it puts the stars to shame.

It would be nice to grow old together.

But sometimes, it is nicer still, not to.

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[bardicbeetle]

today in lines i forced out through my teeth because the writing is not going

“I never got to thank you.” Katie says softly, still off-color, still wide eyed.

“Don’t.” Alex shakes their head, letting their hands drop over their chest. “Don’t, I don’t deserve that—”

“—bullshit.” Katie cuts them off, letting go of Carrie’s hand and marching her way over the bar where Alex is sitting. “Everyone else in that fucking room died, I didn’t, I didn’t because of you.”

[bardicbeetle]

Poetry 🖋️ and sci fi 🧪 for the book genre ask game :)

Sci-fi 🧪: What future do you want for you and your wip/s?

Honestly? I just want them to be had. I want people to get out of them the experiences that I do. I want my characters to be beloved, to be despised, I want them to be known. I don't care if they go far, or do well, I just want other people to be able to see them, entirely, for the work I put in.

Poetry 🖋️: give us a taste of your writing with a literary technique (rhyme, descriptive language, alliteration etc).

(I like the way this section of scene flows, have this)

“Can I… go back to bed now?” They mumble once Jesse is gone. It’s the last thing their body wants, it’s buzzing and alive like they’ve got too much energy. They stretch to try and curb it, to try and urge their limbs to remember that they are exhausted. It doesn’t do much.

“Not yet, sorry.” Daniel does sound truly apologetic. Alex recognizes the look he’s giving them and tries to coax the sudden distress out of their expression, to no success.

“Now?”

“Now,” Daniel echoes, “I know it’s been a long night, but tell me where you’re at.”

It doesn’t take long to figure out.

They think about how little Isaac’s blood had helped last night, about how their memory was fading in and out when the hunger was at its worst. How they hadn’t really been conscious until Daniel had pulled them off Isaac, how that had been like waking up from a nightmare—

“It’s not great.”

“An understatement. What about right now?”

So much energy they feel like bursting, heart racing but vision clear and sharp. Still red at the edges but less like haze and more like tinted glass. The empty thermos just making their body chime more, more, more. “Sick.” Alex replies, “Like I’ve got too much energy and nowhere to send it, like the pain is behind a wall but it’s still there, like the wall is made of wet paper and it’s just—” Their voice dies and Daniel takes their hand again.

“You know you’re running low on time.”

“I know,” Alex whispers, “I know, I know, just— just a couple days, okay?”

“I can do that,” Daniel assures them, “but tell me if it gets worse.”

[bardicbeetle]

lines from the evening

“Fine!” Isaac snaps, stopping abruptly. They’ve hit the edge of the water. “Why did you save my life? Why did you stop Alex from killing me? Why did you give me your blood? Why are you so fucking human?” He has to pause, has to remember to breathe, has to—shit, he hadn’t meant to do it like this. “I shouldn’t be talking to you, I shouldn’t be talking to Alex, I should have just left you that last bit of blood and forgotten about all of this, I should have said no when you asked for my help—”

[bardicbeetle]

today in lines I adore

It takes a minute for Jesse’s eyes to adjust, until he can see Daniel sprawled out across the whole of the bed. He looks softer in sleep, hair over his eyes and one arm hanging off the edge towards the floor.

Murderer, Jesse reminds himself, straight up killed a man last night, with his teeth.

[bardicbeetle]

Snip - Ignoring It

Weeks of having Alex over for training had gradually eased his anxieties about something going wrong. They got on well with Carrie and Tom, and while both his friends still peppered him with questions, the actual interrogating had died down after the first few days.

Fighting Alex was still different, maybe just because of the secret they were both keeping, maybe because both of them knew how easy it would be to blow the whole charade. One step a little too far, like when the others had gone and they stopped holding back. It would just take one slip into that mindset. Just one touch too far into Alex’s skin, eyes flashing red, teeth suddenly too sharp and too long.

Then...

Then there was the other problem.

When this started, it was about giving Alex time to make their decision, it was about keeping them alive. Nobody said he had to be their friend, or even tolerate being around them, but he didn’t mind. He was a second opinion, not an unbiased one, but Alex didn’t have much in the way of other options. So he poured out everything he knew, gave his blood as often as he could, and after a while Alex just felt like part of life.

Tom and Carrie were his friends.

Alex was that one friend who had maybe almost killed him a few times...

Now that the groups had melted together, the reality was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Alex was his friend.

And he wanted there to be more than that.

And wanting that was going to be the death of him.

So, he ignored it.

Ignored it, and ignored it, and-

“Would you just kiss them already?” Tom’s voice pulls Isaac out of his thoughts and back to his bedroom. They’d been curled up having a movie night while Carrie was doing double shifts and—for once— while Isaac’s uncle had taken over the shop for the evening.

“What?”

“Alex, would you please stop pining and go out?” Tom insisted “Just, maybe don’t punch them in the face, I know I didn’t appreciate it.”

Isaac smiles at the memory, even if it’s a little sour. High school had been, at least up until this past few months, the height of his anxiety. Finding out he was bi hadn’t helped. It didn’t matter that he’d wanted Tom to kiss him, he’d been—for lack of a better word—scared. “I shouldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?” Tom asked “You didn’t deny it, so you obviously like them, you’re both adults so what could possibly be stopping you.” He paused for a second and added “Unless it’s me, stopping you, I promise there’s no hurt feelings or anything, I won’t be mad if you-”

“Tom,” Isaac cut over him, resting his head on Tom’s shoulder. “I know you wouldn’t. It’s just... complicated. Alex has had a really rough year, I don’t think they’ve really settled yet, and I don’t want to make things any harder.”

“Oh, yeah, because dating you is so difficult.” Tom rolled his eyes, and Isaac almost laughed. They’d been together up until senior year, when Tom had left for culinary school and they decided friendship was better for both of them. Not that it had changed much, when they saw each other there was still a lot of hugging and holding and I missed you so much.

“Carrie agrees with me,” Tom said “you’re lucky it’s me saying all this and not her-”

Isaac groaned, batting Tom on the head “-Stop it!” There’s a smile on his face despite being serious. “You tell Carrie to lay off it too.”

“Tell her yourself,” Tom shot back “not my job to call her off.”

@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @the-ichor-of-ruination / @maabonwrites / @alessia-writes / @pippermiints / @im-a-bitch-youll-get-used-to-it / @blve0 / @harrybpoetry / @babycollectionman / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions / @luxscribbles / @anoldfashionedlesbianlovestory / @vaguelyhumanekid / @meatandboneasmr / @h-faith-marr-writeblr / @draculinawrites / @kentwrites / @greenwood-writes / @necros-writings

[bardicbeetle]

Snip - unwanted reconciliations

Ooops It’s been too long since I put Jesse in an uncomfortable situation, let’s go! This time featuring my hatred of having to be the bigger person when you’re the child, but suffering through it anyways bc you’re the ‘good kid’.

“Sarah? What’s wrong?” She’s been silent on the other end of the line since he picked up, just an occasional shaking breath. Jesse was going to just wait until she seemed able to speak but it’s starting to worry him.

“I- look I know you hated dad and you had good reason to- and it’s all complicated and-”

“-He’s dead, isn’t he.”

It’s not a question.

It doesn’t have to be.

Her voice breaks in her response “Yeah, yeah um, he had a fall and- can you- would you-”

“When’s the funeral, Sarah?” He’s struggling to keep his voice low and calm, he can process once he’s off the phone, once it won’t affect her.

“Saturday.”

“I’ll be there Friday night.” He assures her “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He drops the phone as soon as he’s hung up.

He shouldn’t, he hears the back pop off and the battery go flying when it hits the ground. Probably to vanish somewhere under the bed, under his dresser, it doesn’t really matter. Jesse sits back on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, not sure what he’s supposed to be feeling. What do you feel for the death of someone you’re supposed to love but you don’t? For someone who treated you like the scum of the earth until you were finally enough of a problem to get thrown out?

Bill Addison is dead.

He’s not sure if there’s any real feeling behind it.

Bitterness for not having ever really confronted him?

Relief that he never had to?

“Jesse?”

“Dad’s dead,” Jesse mumbled “funeral Saturday, don’t wanna talk about it.” After a moment he opens his arms and adds “Can you just come here?”

Daniel obliges him without another word. It’s been a very long time since they’ve spent a whole night in bed together, but Jesse can’t bring himself to move. He stays wrapped around Daniel, waiting for something to change, waiting for some revelation he can’t see coming. Something to tell him what he’s meant to do now.

When restlessness takes over for lethargy he says something about needing Moira’s help and finally gets up.

This was true.

He needed to her dye his hair back to blond.

It felt like something he could manage. Just not something he could manage alone.

“You still awake?”

“Mmmm,” Moira doesn’t look around the canvas obscuring her from view, her back to the window that will spill sunrise soon. “what do you need?”

“I need your help dying my hair blond.” Even the word itself makes his mouth want to curl. He remembers dying it the first time, honey and sunshine going black-

“You hate when your hair is blond.” She doesn’t miss a beat, she does actually look around now, brush in hand, paint coating her arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Funeral.”

Her eyes go wide and Jesse stops her before her thoughts go anywhere tragic:

“My father. I told Sarah I’d go.”

“Oh-”

He doesn’t mean to cut her off again, but he can’t talk about it. Doesn’t want to. Doesn’t feel like he can. “Please, Moira- I just want to get this over with.”

“Yeah, yeah okay.”

There’s usually something therapeutic about dying his hair, something about having control over even a small aspect of himself that brings him some calm. Usually. Seeing himself blond again has much the opposite effect. It leaves him feeling vulnerable and small in ways he hasn’t felt in decades. It also calls up the fact that he’s supposed to be... God, fifty-two? Sarah looks older than he does now.

It’s the least he can do, he reminds himself.

It’s something.

~*~

“Let me know if you change your mind.” Daniel tells him “I’ll come if you need me.”

He doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to leave the safety of the home he’s made for himself. He doesn’t want to set foot back in that monster of a house and pretend he’s fine being there. But he smiles, though he can tell it will look forced, and replies: “I will. It’ll be alright. I’m just there for Sarah anyway.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” He presses a last kiss to Daniel’s forehead and closes his eyes.

His father’s study is the one room he can think of that is unlikely to have changed since his last time there. Smelling faintly of tobacco and cinnamon, all dark wood and smooth glass-

He opens his eyes to find he was right, it looks nearly identical. Books have probably changed, a lamp has been replaced, but the main things are the same. There’s a new picture of Sarah and her kids on the desk from last Christmas, and next to it-

Next to it is his graduation picture from Berkeley.

It’s such a shock to see that he’s taken by the immediate need to check if it’s real.

He’s reached out to touch it when someone screams.

Turning to see his mother, “Who are-” she stops as she’s able to look at him properly. It occurs to him then that she hasn’t actually seen him blond since he was first kicked out, when he was fifteen.

“Hello, mother.” It’s a little stiff, Jesse can’t help it though, all his energy is going to keeping a handle on his emotions right now. Everything is just trying not to let this house affect him the way he knows it’s going to if he’s here for very long.

There isn’t a whole lot of time to try and find more to say, regardless of if he wants to or not, because almost as soon as he speaks, she’s crying.

Jesse doesn’t want to comfort her.

He doesn’t want to have to.

He takes a breath and pulls her into a hug. While it just seems to make her cry harder at first, whole body shaking with the effort of it, she does hug him back. This isn’t what he’s here for, this is in fact exactly what he’s not here for. He doesn’t want to make things better. It’s not his responsibility.

As wrapped up in his own thoughts and not wanting to be here as he is, it takes some time to notice the steady stream of apologies making their way out between tears. Pulling back, he looks at his mother’s shaking form and- despite how fragile she looks- has to overcome the urge to shove her away. “Mother, stop.”

“I- but I-”

“I mean it, stop.” He’s never tried to do that before, it feels like all the air gets pulled out of him with the words, but she does stop talking long enough to collect herself and still the shaking. “I’m fine.”

“You’re doing okay?” She asks finally, a little of her normal voice returning.

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” It feels somewhat backhanded, considering the last time they saw each other, but Jesse can’t really bring himself to care.

The silence is too heavy here.

He hates it.

Everything feels so much the same.

Miranda looks ready to cry again, but instead she just shakes her head a little and motions for Jesse to follow her out of the office. He notices his pictures have returned to the walls. It still doesn’t matter. It wouldn’t have mattered before. It’s been too long for a gesture like that to be worth much. His room still looks much the same as last time, plain and empty and-

He can’t help but think of the last night he’d spent here. When he still thought he was going to die. When everything still felt like it was falling apart.

His mother seems to gather herself before speaking again, and it comes out like the words feel strange on her tongue. “Will Daniel be joining you, tomorrow?”

The question takes Jesse so off guard he doesn’t respond at first. He’s not sure if that feeling bubbling up is going to end in laughing in her face or starting to cry. “Would you care?” It’s harsher than it needs to be, colder, but he tells himself it’s deserved. Like everything else it doesn’t matter. He can’t let it matter if he wants to keep going.

Everything is spinning.

He’s gone.

@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @the-ichor-of-ruination / @maabonwrites / @alessia-writes / @pippermiints / @im-a-bitch-youll-get-used-to-it / @blve0  / @harrybpoetry / @babycollectionman / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @8bitgaemr / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions  / @luxscribbles / @anoldfashionedlesbianlovestory / @vaguelyhumanekid / @meatandboneasmr / @h-faith-marr-writeblr / @draculinawrites / @kentwrites / @greenwood-writes /

[bardicbeetle]

Snip - The Bad Thing redux

All the air seemed to leave the room as Amalthea appeared, less put together now, with the holes in her dress and her flesh, eyes still bright but lacking the control of before, wide and wild and full of rage.

“As touching as this little display is, my patience is out.” Time may very well have stopped, everything faded out around Daniel until it was only the two of them.  The calm in her voice so obviously faked, he could feel the anger beneath it practically shaking his bones. “Do not make me set another example, little soldier.”

Carter’s head in her grasp like a mirror of the Medusa myth, Elice and her own in pieces, Eric coated head to toe in the blood of children.  He knew that voice.  It was so easy to see what would follow if he refused her now.

“You know better.”

She would take him either way.

Willing, or with his family dead by her hands.

Even that was just a lie to keep him sane, she knew him, if they ended up dead it would be his own skin dyed red.  That was crystal clear.

Daniel released Jesse’s hand and pushed himself back to his feet.  

He nodded once.

Amalthea was right.

He knew better.

Knew better than to tempt the note in her voice that promised destruction.  Not here, not again.

“A minute?” The request was all he could hope for, even then it was barely a shred of possibility.

The silence was a deafening refusal.  Unsurprising, and yet-

“Take care of each other.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look back.  If he saw them he would fight it, if he fought, he would damn them all.  But he hears movement, a chorus of whispers as Eden, Gus and the humans do their best to keep the other three from interfering.

Looking back would make him fight. Looking back would damn them all.

"Don’t-”

Jesse’s voice halts before the words are out.  The desperation is there, the silent plea of not again.

Daniel took a breath, digging for that place where his emotions are gone, grief, love, anger, joy.  Weakness.  Control, he was in control, obedience and fear were the ruling factors now.

No explanation to his family would make it easier

There was red in his vision that wasn’t yet real, but that would change.

It would keep them safe, this would keep all of them safe.

That was worth it.

Amalthea was the only thing in view, pure white in the shape of someone he once loved.

Leading him away from everything he loved now.

@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @the-ichor-of-ruination / @maabonwrites / @alessia-writes / @pippermiints / @im-a-bitch-youll-get-used-to-it / @bluewrites0 / @pleasejustenditallnow / @harrybpoetry / @babycollectionman / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @8bitgaemr / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions / @mourningalleglory / @luxscribbles / @anoldfashionedlesbianlovestory

[bardicbeetle]

Quick Snip - Proposition

“Do you think it wise?  Your little plot to keep Madeleine alive?”

He manages to repress the jump at Amalthea’s voice as she seemingly melts into existence.  “Pretty sure you didn’t take me for my brains.” Over the last few months he’d trained the emotion out of his voice, it made her easier to deal with, even if she could still read him like an open book.  “Wise doesn’t play into it, I’m returning owed favors.”

“For what?” it sounds like genuine curiosity for a moment, he might mistake it for that if he could get past the grin, get past the fact that it was Emily’s face looking back at him. “Keeping you out of my way after Elice?  Helping clean up the little mess in Chicago?  Or in Boston?”

“Do you need something?” Daniel let his voice go sharp, just a little, just enough.

“I have a proposition for you, Daniel.”

The use of his name gave him pause, it’s always nicknames from her, always toying, always belittling...  “I doubt I have a choice in the matter.” He replied “What is it?”

@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @the-ichor-of-ruination / @maabonwrites / @alessia-writes / @pippermiints / @im-a-bitch-youll-get-used-to-it / @bluewrites0 / @pleasejustenditallnow / @harrybpoetry / @babycollectionman / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @8bitgaemr / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions / @mourningalleglory / @luxscribbles

[bardicbeetle]

Quick Snips - Distraction

“Don’t go.” He needs a distraction, needs physical contact, needs-

He needs to forget for a while.

Forget all of it.

When allowed, when he thinks he can get away with it, Jesse is a force to be reckoned with.  Desire is a language he speaks fluently and it’s not something he’s ever shown a trace of shame for.  It’s refreshing.

It’s distracting.

It’s enough.

It’s not right, but he’s not entirely sure what it is otherwise.  He’s definitely using Jesse.

But then... Jesse is using him too.

[bardicbeetle]

snip - Liana Raes

The earliest memories of what Isaac Raes would later categorize as ‘occult bullshit’ came from his grandmother’s stories.  She was a lonely old woman, and his father had made habit of bringing Isaac along to visit on the weekends.  There was only so much he could get out of the single story house, especially at night, so often he would find himself laid face up on the floor; heat soaking into his back while is grandmother talked with perfect certainty about things that did not exist.

Usually this happened while his father and uncle were cooking and talking about their respective lives.  His uncle ran a bookstore over in Maine, something that seemed to be going particularly well for him.  Isaac would sometimes listen to  them tiptoe around the subject of the divorce, he was less bothered by it than he thought he should be, but it wasn’t like his mom had been around much to begin with.

So he listened to stories about monsters and spirits and things that could rip him limb from limb in a matter of seconds.  His grandmother was usually careful to save these stories for when her sons were out of the room, however tonight she seemed to get a little carried away, too much to notice when Isaac’s father came back in.

“Mother, I’d appreciate you not filling his head with horror stories.”

And that would be the end of it.  Until she felt like he was far enough out of earshot.

The stories didn’t bother him, they were usually the most interesting part of the visit, though that wasn’t saying much.  She seemed to have so many of them that not once in three years had he heard a repeated tale, and if he had it had been forgotten.  

The real experience came when he was about nine, he’d pretty much outgrown the excitement of the stories by that point, and tried to spend as much of his time outside the old house as he could, even if it meant just sitting on top of the wall out front and picking stones off it.  

At night though, he was confined to the indoors, this was the one thing both his father, uncle, and grandmother were adamant about.  So there he was on the floor again, watching dust motes float past his face.  His father and uncle were talking about some distant relatives, his grandmother was shuffling an over-sized deck of cards.

“Isaac, would you go get my other deck from the basement?  Those stairs are unkind on my legs these days.”

Basement?

His interest was immediately perked, he’d never been in the basement, he hadn’t even known this house had one.  At this point, anything to distract him until it was time to leave, he would take it.  “Sure, gram.”

“The door is on the hall off the kitchen, the cards are in a heavy silver case, about the size of a shoebox.”

Following those instructions, he found the door behind a plain blue curtain, the stairs were steep and creaky, he couldn’t picture her getting down them at all...  It was dark, lit only by a single bare bulb in the center of the room, which seemed to be quickly swallowed by the dirt floor and walls.  

The shelves lining the room were a mess, gardening tools still caked in dirt and withered grass, buckets full of black muck, coils of tangled rope and garden hose, chicken wire everywhere.  Everything smelled like rust and rot.

Finally, on top of one shelf he spotted the box that had been described, so he dragged over a few of the buckets, balancing on the rims made him just tall enough to reach.  It was heavy, just as she’d said, though why a deck of cards needed such a special box he had no clue.

There was a moment of complete silence after he pulled it down and then-

Crash!

The buckets he’d been precariously balanced on tipped into each other, sending him and the box to the floor in a mess of-

Something.

Sticky, brownish black gunk, whatever had been at the bottom of the buckets for god knew how long.  For a few seconds he just sat there on the floor, box still in his hands, dreading the reprimand he’d face upstairs, and the ride back to Danville covered in whatever this stuff was.

“Hello?” A voice from behind the shelf “You’re not momma...”

Isaac wiped the dust off his glasses and got to his feet, looking between objects to see an opening behind the shelf, and a pair of bright red eyes staring back at him.

He didn’t stay to see what they belonged to.

Back upstairs, he tripped over the lip where the carpet started, and came crashing to the floor again in front of the three adults, sending the box out of his hands, and cards scattering over the floor.

“Slow down there, kiddo.” His uncle laughed, getting up to help gather the cards.

His father had noticed that he was a mess though, and in the light upstairs he saw what he’d taken to be some sort of brownish black was in fact a deep red soaking his clothes.  Between that and the red eyes, it was enough:

He started to scream.

That was blood, that was definitely, definitely blood.

“Isaac, hey come here, it’s alright.” As he calmed, his father came and pulled him into a hug.  He was still shaking, but the immediate horror had passed.  “What happened?”

He explained in halting words about the buckets he’d used to reach the box, and about the thing behind the shelf with red eyes.  As soon as he’d said this, his grandmother let out a huff:

“Now really Isaac, you shouldn’t pester Liana.  She’s not used to strangers, you probably startled her.”

The reaction to this was palpable, both his father and uncle froze, and his uncle’s voice came as though his throat was constricted.  “Mother, Liana has been dead for twenty-three years.  That’s enough, you need to let her go.”

His grandmother was the one laughing now, if anything this seemed to bring both men to Isaac’s level of fear.  “Oh boys, you never did take any interest in my work.  Why do you think we had a closed coffin funeral?  Why do you think you never saw her all those months when she was ‘sick’.  I had her saved.”

Saved?

“What are you talking about?” his father demanded “Liana is dead!”

She was still laughing, shaking her head “No, no, not dead, not quite.”

“Can you show us where you saw the eyes?” His uncle asked, and though going back was the last thing he wanted to do, Isaac nodded.

Holding tight to his father’s hand, the three made their way into the basement.

“Over there, behind the shelf.” He pointed, but stayed close to the stairs.  They pulled the shelf out, revealing a thin metal screen blocking off another small room.

Pressed up against the screen, smiling with teeth too sharp and eyes bright red, was a little girl with long black braids.  Her fingers and arms curled against the mesh, like she was leaning her full weight on it.  Her clothes looked new, but they were covered in various dark stains, similar stains covered her face and hands.  “Where’s momma?  Did she send you to play?  I haven’t had people to play with in sooo long.” There was a singsong tone to her voice, and she rolled back onto her heels as she spoke.

Isaac’s uncle fell to his knees.  “Liana?”

“Uh-huh!” She seemed blissfully unaware of their unease and pain.

“Ed, what the fuck, what did she do?” his father whispered “That can’t-”

“I had a brother named Ed, Eddie and Al.” Too late the trio saw her fingers had ripped through the mesh wall, too late as she fixed her eyes on Isaac, who was still covered in old blood.

“Isaac!” as the little girl had made to lunge for him, Isaac watched his father jump in the way of her.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion...

Her small hands tearing into his throat, coating her in a red the same bright color as her eyes.  They fell to the floor with a wet thud, Isaac stood a few feet back, unable to tear his eyes away.  

His uncle’s shout seemed to come from very far off, he was too fixated on the motionless form of his father, and the thrashing of Liana where she sat on his chest.  It didn’t feel real.

It couldn’t be real.

Something rushed by him, and in a flurry of black hair and metal, suddenly Liana’s head was on the floor.  There were a few moments of silence.

His uncle fell back to the floor and puked.

Everything seemed to be blurring around the edges, and suddenly-

it all went dark.

@cjjameswriting

@maabonwrites

@the-ichor-of-ruination

[bardicbeetle]

quick snips - rain and reality

“You ready to talk about it?”

Jesse nodded but still didn’t speak for a good ten miles.  He hadn’t been sleeping enough, the rain on the road was shimmering and making everything even harder to see.  His head was aching again, like someone had driven a railroad tie through his temples.  

Acknowledging it still felt wrong.

Like if he could just forget about it, maybe it’d stop being real.

“Someone took Sarah- and half a dozen other kids at least- on Halloween.  All kids out alone, all from supposedly safe neighborhoods, nobody saw them, nobody heard them.” He paused, seeing a place to pull off, driving didn’t seem like a good idea with this.  “The police were useless, said they were looking into it, but whoever did this knew what they were doing.  They could all-” breathe, his knuckles had gone white against the steering wheel “-Sarah could be dead by the time they even get a lead...”

“Jess-”

“Fucking perfect, isn’t it?  Have a night parading the two of us around and my parents are about to lose both their kids in the same damn moment.  I’d stay and help but they drive me up the wall, I can’t be around that and not go crazy...” The words left him bitter and reminded of the fact that he wasn’t even sure of his plan anymore...  Not for his parents sake, but other things had come up, and with Sarah gone-

His train of thought came to an abrupt halt when he caught the look on Daniel’s face.  For a second it had looked like confusion, but-

“They don’t have to,” Daniel said softly, almost as though he didn’t quite believe it “There’s another option.”

In that moment Jesse was left to wonder if Daniel felt about killing him, how Jesse felt about dying.  As the words sunk in, he started to process what they meant- what it meant doing.

“Can you- is that even possible?” His voice is barely audible, and he’s shifted his whole body to look at Daniel “Would you even want-” He managed to stop himself from finishing that question.  Would you even want me around forever?

He wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to that one.

Daniel wasn’t looking at him, his gaze was going right out the opposite window and when he spoke again it was with that same air of disbelief.  “I know how, I remember Elice doing it... Never even crossed my mind before, hard to remember we don’t all come from-...” His words trailed off into silence “I could do it, you could find your sister, get her back home safe and then-” he stopped again

“What?”

“Well, after that isn’t up to me, is it?  You wouldn’t be dying anymore.”

“Would you help me find Sarah?” Jesse asked, it still wasn’t quite the question he wanted, but close enough.

“You really want this?” Daniel was looking at him now, leaning more towards the center console, still frowning a little like he was unsure. “Because it’s not-”

“Yes.” There’s no more hesitation left, more than anything it’d become a matter of dying quickly or withering away and the former seemed the better option.  This?  This was a new beginning, this was reset, this was taking back what he’d lost and beyond it.

“This isn’t something you can take back-”

“Neither is dying, and I was ready enough to do that the night we met.”

[bardicbeetle]

Not Thinking

1.

You think you might love the man on the motorcycle, His smile too sharp, his eyes too bright. Voice calming your scattered thoughts until what was sharp pain- Is just an old dull ache.

2.

You think you maybe don’t want to die anymore, But you aren’t sure how to revoke the choice. The consequence of losing him isn’t exactly pleasant either, So you keep your mouth shut.

3.

You think you see a crack in the wall one day, Light spilling out from somewhere that wasn’t so bright yesterday. Never have your hands moved so carefully- Nor been so afraid to touch what they seek.

4.

You think too little and feel too much, He’s told you this before but it never really stung. Now in his absence you wonder if thinking would have helped.

You feel like he’s still alive. You hope he’s still alive. But... You do not think he is.

[bardicbeetle]

Unending unedited nano

A short one this time - 

“What are you gonna do, Danny boy?  You couldn’t bring yourself to kill me then, you won’t be able to now.” his reward for that is being slammed into the wall again.  Both Moira and Jesse can see the toll this scene is taking on Daniel.

They both recognize why.

“Daniel,” Moira speaks up, finger resting just off the trigger, waiting “Let him go.”

“Listen to the bitch, you haven’t got the fucking guts to do it anyway.” After a moment of hesitation, Daniel realizes what the words really meant.

And he smiles, drops Eric, and steps away.

[bardicbeetle]

A continuation of Larkspur not editing their NaNo objects

“Dan?”

There is a muffled noise he takes as Daniel confirming he’s still awake.

“What did I look like the night we met?”

“Come on, Jess...” His voice is heavy with sleep, and he rolls over just to curl against Jesse’s arm  “Sleep.”

“I’m serious-”

“Like a drunk punk ass college kid.”

“Dan”

“Black hair, too many bags under your eyes for me to count, trying really hard not to come off as drunk as you were.” Despite the annoyance in his tone, Jesse sees the smile on his face in the dark.

The pair are silent for a while, Daniel is almost back to sleep when:

“Dan?”

“Jess, it’s nearly five in the goddamn morning.  Whatever you have to say can wait until it’s dark out.” As if to drive home this point, he wraps his arms around Jesse, and goes dead weight on top of him.  “I’m so tired.”

Jesse has to bite back a laugh, he’s so different, so different from when they’d met.

...Different even from a couple years ago.

It was nice to see him truly at ease.

[bardicbeetle]

Snip - The Why

It used to be the hunger was the motivator, it used to be they’d starve in between towns until word was given.  It was easy when it was hunger.  Easy to let his mind go, but it wouldn’t last for long, as soon as it subsided he had no stomach for the carnage.  Carter laughed it off, and said he had better not let Thea see him like that.  

The first time Daniel questioned what they were doing, no- not even what- why.  Why were they doing what they were doing, why the bloodshed, why so much more than necessary?

The first time, she looked at him, all white marble and cold grace with a smile too wide to be genuine- and then suddenly his vision went red.  He could taste his own blood in his mouth and it wouldn’t stop flowing- warmth dripped from his ears, from his eyes, his nose-

He couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t see or speak or hear.

For a moment there was a flash of fear, of this is death.

Followed by relief, followed by the idea that this might be the end of it.

Except it went on, for hours he lay there on his knees, head pressed to the floor.  Blood never slowing, never giving any sign that it might stop.  Hours deaf blind and mute, wishing for something, for change, for escape-

Time passes but he isn’t sure how much...

He counts his heartbeat until it stops, but the blood still flows and all he can think is how and the endless echoing why?

Fingers brush gently along the side of his temple and there is a burst of pain- a burst of searing white hot agony-

Then his ears pop.

He starts coughing as his throat clears, and his vision fades back in, still tinged red in places but at least he can see.  Head now only inches from the floor he can see the wide pool of his own blood in which he’s been lying for what feels like eternity.

Not trying to stand, well aware now of the hunger gnawing at him, twisting his stomach in knots.  A quiet ‘thank you’ passes his lips, it sounds raw and empty but it must be enough, because Carter actually helps him to his feet.  The world is spinning, part pain and part starvation, hell some exhaustion thrown in too...

Carter is now also covered in his blood, though it doesn’t seem to bother him any.  He offers Daniel his wrist after dropping both of them onto a sofa, mumbling something about not wanting him to collapse as it’s boring being alone all night.

The why still looms, but there’s no urgency to it now.

Hunger is no longer the motivator.

Maybe it was never meant to be in the first place.

Maybe it was always fear.