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nethhiri · 3 months ago

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Part 3:

Warnings: Murder, Attempted SA

When you woke up, you had slid down further in the man's lap with your head on his thigh and your hand clutching his yukata. His hand was woven in your hair. You pushed yourself up, embarrassed to have been using his groin as a pillow. He took your chin in his hand as you blinked the sleep from your eyes, running his thumb over your bottom lip. You shook your head free of his touch and stood up in a rush. The man creeped you out, and more unnerving than that, his touch was possessively gentle, like you were his toy, his pet.

Later that day, you arrived in a medium size village after walking through forest. Surprisingly, you had been able to walk the whole way, though the man walked noticeably slower than he had previously. The man brought you to a run-dow inn on the outskirts. There he wordlessly rented a room and deposited you into it, along with your things. When he made a move to leave, you followed him. The man paused and seemed to be in thought before lifting you by the waist and placing you on the bed. Then the rope made another appearance as he tied your wrists and ankles together. You would have rather gone with him. Even though he was a stranger, he was the most familiar thing to you in this new place. You had never left your village before.

The next few days were much like the first few. He would come back with food, though this food was more than simple vegetable soup. This was some of the best stuff you had ever eaten, and you eagerly ate it as he fed it to you. You hardly cared how his eyes watched with the same hunger, the food was so good. It would be all over your face and your eyes would plead for more. Whenever he came back, he smelled of iron and there were dark stains on his clothes, but you gradually started to ignore it. It was easier to pretend you weren't kidnapped by a murderer. Could you even call it kidnapped if you didn't have a place you called home? Actually, if you thought about it, you were being clothed and fed by a man, maybe this was the closest thing to a home you would have. So maybe you should stop thinking so hard about it and play along, enjoy playing house.

Several more days passed. It was weird not talking. You weren't sure if you should say anything. He was silent and he never talked. Were you also supposed to keep silent? Part of you wanted to talk to him, to see if he would return the conversation, at least find out his name. The other part of you was afraid to break the silence. Since he never made an attempt to, maybe he preferred that you not talk, and you didn't want to be on the opposing end of his scythes.

This time when he decided to move again, he brought you shoes. He cut your bindings and you left the village together. It became apparent where you were headed when the city came into view. It was the biggest collection of buildings you had seen and it couldn't be anything other than the Flower Capital, even in the evening light. The closer you got, the more self-conscious you felt. You didn't belong in a city like this. They would be able to tell. Although, you weren't in the same rags you started in. Your clothes may not be as extravagant as some, but you didn't stick out either.

You seemed to be in a part of the city where things went unnoticed. There were quite a few people that looked rough. The man appeared to know where he was going, heading toward a dilapidated building. He motioned for you to wait and went inside. Out of curiosity, you moved slightly closer to the entrance and peeked in. The man was talking to someone, yes, talking. You strained to hear what his voice sounded like. Your attention was grabbed by movement in the corner of your eye, which you were surprised you noticed, given the waning light. Several people in the alley eyed you. Maybe you shouldn't wear something flashy in this area. A few snickered to each other, and you didn't like the way they were looking at you. It wasn't that different than the feeling you got from the man sometimes, but he was your only familiarity. You weighed what might happen if you stayed outside versus what the man would do if you didn't do what he asked. As soon as one of them took a step towards you, you ran inside and put the man between you and the door. He tensed as you hid behind him, turning his head slightly to see someone peering in the door and quickly leaving.

Whatever the man had been arranging, it seemed like he was done, because he led you towards the back of the building. It was obvious that most of the rooms were rented by prostitutes. You could hear it very plainly. Where was he taking you? Was he going to rent you out to someone? What if he sold you to the man at the front? It turned out not to be the case. The room in the back was small and he put his things down. You let out a breath of relief. He was staying here with you. The man eyed you and you hoped the relief wasn't evident on your face. He appeared to be thinking about something. The man grabbed his scythes, waving you along to follow him. This was new. He was letting you out of the room instead of leaving you bound.

The man glanced back every few seconds to, presumably, check to see if you were still there. Where would you go? You had no where to return. And you certainly weren't about to leave his side with strange people prowling in the shadows. Was it a test? To see if you would run? You could get about a foot away before he lopped your head off. That would be stupid. He fed you and clothed you. He brought you back from the brink of death. He was giving you a second chance at life. In your first life, all you did was waste away. You could do something with yourself this time, even if that thing was solely being devoted to serving this person. It was the least you could do in return. So you continued to pad after him like a lost puppy.

Gradually, the number of people in the streets increased as you headed towards the center of town. There was more people than you'd ever seen in one place, and they looked well-fed, too. It was amazing that there was enough food here to keep all these people nourished, yet in your own village, there was virtually nothing. The amount of people distracted you, bumping into you on all sides. Reflexively you reached for the fabric of the man's clothes so you wouldn't get left behind. At the tug, he tightened his grip around his scythes but relaxed when he realized it was only you. For a moment when you were caught in his sight, you thought he might cut your hand off. You retracted your hand immediately. Subtly, the man slowed down. You noticed you weren't struggling to keep up with him as much.

Abruptly, you tripped, catching yourself on your hands and knees. When you got back up, you lost sight of the man. It was dark now and even the height he had was no help picking him out of a crowd. A hand came over your mouth and you were dragged off your feet into one of the many unlit alleys splitting off from the main path. It wasn't the man. You could tell because this person seemed smaller in stature. You panicked and tried to scream, but it was so muffled by the person's hand that no one would hear. You wriggled and kicked to break free from the hold and you could feel the person's grip loosening so you fought them harder. You managed to slip out of their grasp and ran further down the alley. It took a lot of the limited energy you had to break free, so there wasn't much left to get away.

All you could do was scream for help. You wished you knew what the man's name was so you could call out to him. He had saved you and acted protectively, or maybe possessively, around you. He would come for you, right? Why would he waste all that time and resources on you just to let you go? He didn't sell you. That meant you were to be kept by him, or so you assumed. Escape lasted a brief few seconds before you were grabbed by your hair and thrown down. There was a swift kick to your stomach, knocking the wind from you and preventing any more screams from exiting your lips.

There was a sinister laugh and your attacker was pulling off the fabric keeping your yukata on. You grabbed at the fabric to keep it on, simultaneously trying to fight off this person. Gradually, both your grip and your kicks became weak and the attacker was able to pull off your yukata, throwing it to the side. As your eyes adjusted in the darkness, you recognized the face as one of the creepy men from earlier. He had followed you.

You closed your eyes tightly, refusing to look at him. You felt the person's body weight on you and bile rose in your throat. You were shaking with fear and tears were running down your cheeks. The attacker didn't move. There was a warm, wet liquid slowly soaking into your remaining clothes. It was rolling down your skin, especially over your face and chest. When you opened your eyes, slowly, you couldn't understand what you were seeing. Horror closed your features when you realized that the man on top of you no longer had a head, and blood was dripping from his neck onto you. Staring further, there was a scythe stuck in the man's back, attached to the scythe was The Man. A sob left you as you felt relief in seeing him.

He nudged the limp body off you with his foot, removing his scythe from the headless man's back. The man leaned down and offered you a hand to pull yourself up. Even though you willed your hand to grab his, your body didn't move. You were still stuck in a state of shock, shaking and silently crying. He scooped you over his shoulder and took you back to the room you were staying in, faster than you had thought he would be able to.

You sat shakily on the edge of the bed, frozen. The man disappeared again. You looked down at your ruined underclothes, staring at the blood. You clawed at the garment to get it off. You didn't want any of that person's blood to touch your skin. There was a small pitcher of water and a basin in the room that you rushed to. Taking a part of fabric without blood, you got it wet and began to scrub the dry blood from your face, neck, and chest. You dumped some of the water over your head, watching the drips turn pink as the blood was reanimated and washed from your hair.

Afterwards, you sat on the bed in the same spot with the sheets pulled around you. When the man returned, surprise flashed across his features, then something else, pity maybe. He put something in your lap and grabbed the basin. He came behind you, gently finger brushing your hair and washing the strands off more throughly. The thing in your lap was a bowl of noodles in some kind of broth. The smell pulled you from your shock and you started to eat. About halfway through, you noticed he only brought one bowl. You turned and offered it back to him. His eyes stayed on your face while he took the bowl from you. You flinched as he stuck his sleeve in the basin and wiped away all the places you had missed when you were trying to get the blood off.

He joined you, sitting on the bed, after putting the basin down. Your eyes stayed on the noodles as he ate, watching them dwindle. You swallowed, unsure of what was going on or what you should do. You fidgeted. You owed him twice over now for saving your life. There wasn't a lot you could do for him, but there was an intense sense of guilt for being a useless burden. You pressed your knees together at the thought of the most obvious thing you could do to repay him, and make yourself useful. You nervously chewed on your lip as his bowl became empty.

"Th-Thank you," you stuttered out. After a tense silence, you added, "M-my name is Y/N."

Tag List: @h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece #x reader #massacre soldier killer #hitokiri kamazo x reader #kamazo x reader #hitokiri kamazo #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader #Manslayer's Mouse

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redsrooftopprincess · 3 months ago

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Soldier (Part 1)

Part 2

Fem Reader x Raphael

Warnings: Violence, Kidnapping, Suggested Assault

He's been fighting this fight since he was a kid, watching from the shadows, keeping the people of his city safe. Ensuring they can go about their nights unmolested, living boring middle-class civilian lives he could only dream of.

For a long time the bitterness of it consumed him. His teenage years were spent learning to navigate his rage. By his early twenties he'd reached a sort of acceptance. He wasn't happy, or even content, really, but he'd fallen into a comfortable routine and he wasn't quite ready to check out early just yet.

Wake up, check news, coffee w/ dad, check police reports, work out, team meeting, gear up, head out.

The city was his mission, his purpose.

Then he met you, and his mission changed.

Instead of checking the news before rolling out of bed, he started checking for texts from you. Instead of using his lifting time to work through problems and strategies, he uses it to think up excuses to visit. Instead of grabbing a quick cup of coffee at Casey and April's halfway through the night and getting back out on patrol, he sticks around, sometimes for hours, just to talk to you.

And he's grown used to it. To you. To the softness. And while he still goes out on patrol every night, he's started feeling less and less like his only purpose in life is protecting the city.

For the first time in his life, he feels like a person. A real person. And he loves it.

Two quick raps againt the metal door as Raphael strides casually into the lab, "Hey, you heard from (Y/N)?"

Donatello doesn't look up from the very tiny reclaimed motherboard he's working on. "Nope. Shit." He jerks his hand back as he singes himself on the soldering iron, cursing his oversized fingers. "Truth be told, I could use her help, too." He looks up at him, "Why?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling."

The first thing you notice is the fuzzy feeling in the back of your throat. Then the headache hits full force. Drugged. Your eyes blink open and you squint though the pain into a dimly lit warehouse. As you look around you, you're alone.

The boys have been trying to find the central location of a weapons trafficking ring, and while out today, you'd stumbled upon a lead. Was it really stupid of you to follow it with no communication and no back up? Yes. Are you are preemptively annoyed at Leo for the lecture you are rightfully going to receive later? Also, yes.

Ahead of you is a concrete wall about ten feet wide in blooming shades of sweat-stain yellow, the back of some kind of office, you imagine. Around it and you is an open warehouse filled with crates and equipment, and as the ringing in your ears subsides, you hear some kind of operation buzzing around on the other side of the wall.

You close your eyes as the world spins, and reach for your head with your hand. All you're offered in return is a sharp pain in your wrists. Zip ties. Okay, this is getting worse.

You know this. They coached you on this. It was one of the first things they did. Basic kidnapping protocol. They had a lot of enemies, and the second you laid eyes on them, you became a target.

"Assess the situation."

Once the dizziness passes, you open your eyes and try your legs. Ziptied to the chair legs. Your hands are tied to each other behind your back. Your bag is on the desk ten feet away with your phone peeking out of it. You can hear talking not too far away, but whoever they are is out of sight. In front of you is the wall, behind you is a large roll-up bay door.

"Find where they fucked up."

The chair legs are straight, and no one is watching. You tip the chair back, sliding the zip ties off the ends and looking around before standing as silently as you can. You step through the loop of your arms bringing them in front of you, breaking the hardware store brand zip ties the way they taught you.

"Stay low. Get creative."

You make it to the desk. A middle-aged white male with a patchy goatee stands on the other side of some crates. You manage to grab the strap of your bag and wait until he turns away to pull it toward you. You're careful not to change the location of the bag on the table, just turn it enough to knock your phone off the desk into your hand.

"Find a way to get to us. Even if it's just a phone call."

Raph's phone rings in his hand. He holds up and points to it before answering.

"Hey."

"Help me," you whisper into the phone as quietly as you can.

Your whisper is a siren, pulling all focus to the phone in his hand. He makes eye contact with Donatello, who stands as his brother tenses.

"Where are you?" He puts the phone on speaker and sets on the table in front of him. He leans in, straining to hear you.

"I don't know.... I'm in a warehouse, but that could be literally anywhere."

"Describe it." Donnie interjects, striding over to the table, you hesitate. "The smallest detail will help. Don't just use your eyes."

You take one last glance around and close your eyes. You breathe deep. Salt. Iron. The silence of a wide open outside, not the cramped streets of the city.

"The Yard. I'm in a warehouse at the Navy Yard." You look around, the new information providing context, "It looks old. Rusted through in some places. I'm-"

You scream as your violently pulled out from under the desk by your upper arm.

"(Y/N)!!!" Raphael roars, bracing against the table.

As you're being dragged to your feet, you kick your phone under one of the taller stacks of crates. The boys listen as you're tossed, unceremoniously, back into the metal discount party supply chair, and backhanded across the face for emphasis.

The force of the blow nearly knocks you out of the chair, but as you right yourself, you're laughing.

"What the fuck is so funny?" Shitty goatee demands, his fetid breath washing over you. Why can't bad guys brush their teeth? It's basic hygiene.

You grin up at him through bloody teeth, that even now are probably cleaner than his, "There's been a trace running on that call from the moment they picked up."

"Shit." He says, annoyed. He sends a couple lackeys over to move the crates.

"Won't do any good," you call over, "they probably already have your location by now."

"Why? Who did you call?" The man demands.

You blink up at him. He doesn't know? So you were kidnapped by just a normal... everyday asshole...?

Oh, this poor, dumb bastard.

"Just a couple friends of mine," you say casually as your grin widens, "They're gonna tear you apart."

The man straightens and looks down at you with a disgusting smile. "Listen, bitch. With the amount of firepower in this building, I can't wait to see 'em try."

You look over at the guys trying to move the crates and get to the phone. The man takes that opportunity to grab you roughly by the hair and throw you down against the concrete.

"In the meantime..."

Seventeen seconds. That's how long it takes to find a location. That's how long he listens them hurt you.

Soldier keep on marchin' on

Head down 'til the work is done

Waiting on that morning sun

Soldier keep on marchin' on

Head in the dust, feet in the fire

Labour on that midnight wire

Listening for that angel choir

You got nowhere to run

You wanna take a drink of that promise land

You gotta wipe the dirt off of your hands

Careful son, you got dreamer's plans

But it gets hard to stand

Soldier keep on marchin' on

Head down 'til the work is done

Waiting on that morning sun

Soldier keep on marchin' on

Quiet now, you're gonna wake the beast

Hide your soul out of his reach

Shiver to that broken beat

Dark into the heat

Soldier keep on marchin' on

Head down 'til the work is done

Waiting on that morning sun

Soldier keep on marchin' on

Soldier, Fleurie and Tommee Profitt

Tag List:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @footninja

#bayverse raphael #bayverse raphael x reader #tmnt raphael #raphael x reader #raph x reader #tmnt #tmnt raphael x reader #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #Spotify

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epiemy · 11 months ago

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Jason Todd x Fem!Reader from our reality! Pt. 2

Warnings: just cursing (you’re a crazy bitch and Jason too)

Part 2 of 5 - Part 1

A/N: I missed this app so fucking much but I’m back :) hope you like this part of a series project.

Sorry for Grammar mistakes, enjoy!

"Oh boy, we are going to have a big job with this one." Words from a tired Jason.

“Hey, I’m still here, you know that?” You speak in disbelief. It still felt like a dream, where else would you get to see your favorite characters? You had never been able to shift before, so you faithfully doubted that was the case.

Jason just rolls his eyes saying “Unfortunately I noticed, you won't shut up for a single second” - and there goes your sympathy with him.

“Why are pretty people always jerks? - You're an exception Dick, shush” You say but stop as soon as you see Batman's cloak coming towards you, no longer able to control it, you end up smiling more than you've ever seen in your life, after all he was her childhood hero “My gods, Bruce Wayne? Batman? I could pass out!”

“Jason, no!” Dick speaks in warning before the youngest even opens his mouth, but even so he lets out a sneer and says:

“I could make YOU pass out” Jay mutters and you give him the middle finger “You already did that, idiot”, turning your attention to Bruce.

“Why is there a teenager in the cave, who apparently knows our secret identities? I'm only going to ask once” Batman speaks monotone and looks at the boys with his arms crossed and his mask removed.

“Ehm… well… funny story” Tim starts to say while scratching his head lightly, but Jason rolls his eyes.

“I brought her here, I heard some druggies talking about a girl falling from the sky and I went to check it out. I don't know how a demon can fall from the sky but there she is” He speaks ironically and you just stick out your tongue, murmuring that the only demon in this house was him. The boy continues “When I got close to her, she was cursing more than a sailor and had a fangirl attack shouting “Jaaaaason”, I erased her and brought her here. History end"

Bruce raises an eyebrow at Jason and sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. He honestly needed a break from all this, he couldn't take it anymore. “Currently, Barry informed us that there was a rupture of some barrier between universes caused by some meta, it turns out that she was brought from another reality and that is possibly why she knows our identities. Am I correct, miss..?”

“Y/n, and yes you are right. Finally someone with neurons- no offense Timmy” You mutter and the boy just shrugs, then continues talking “If the kid idiots had listened to me instead of fainting, I would have told them that in my reality you are all characters from a brand , so I theoretically know everything about each of you.” There was a silent pause “That seemed kind of scary, my bad.”

Minutes later, Bruce releases you from the place where you were tied up “As long as we don't know what happened, you are welcome to stay in the mansion, Alfred is already aware of this conversation and will prepare a room for you” He speaks calmly, you he just nods with a small smile in gratitude. He turns to his children “You. I want everyone in the mansion during this time, apparently you don't have an alternative version of her in this universe and she will have to stay here for some time, so we need to train her” He says leaving the Batcave.

“Soooo… Dick, can you and your nice ass show me my new room?” You say with a wide smile and you only hear Jason snort in the corner “What’s up, red bird? Do you want to show me instead of Richard? Come on come on, take me then” A hand sign is made by you, as you walk towards some stairs where Bruce had gone but Jason grabs your waist, changing the direction to the left “Oopsie, thanks kitty” You hear the laughter behind you.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Jason says, walking up the correct floors with you.

#dc #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #batfam x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd fluff #red hood x you #bruce wayne

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gothicknightz · 2 years ago

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family ties pt. 2 | ethan landry

notes: IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS PART 2. YOU GUYS ARE GONNA LOVE IT. SCREAM 6 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT.

Sam was shocked beyond words when she found all of this information. Her, she couldn't believe anything.

And the worse thing was, is that they were trusted.

“It fucking runs in the family, Sam-” She paused, breaking away from Ethan's hold, and pointed an accusatory knife at her.

“Did you even think for a second, that, I was behind all of this?” She chuckled in disbelief, taking a step back, “When I found out that my baby's brother got cut up by your whore hands-”

“I didn't kill him!”

“Yes you did, you motherfucker, you killed our brother!”

It was Quinn's turn to have an ironical stab at Sam with words, with tears forming in her eyes as she yelled, with the Detective holding her back.

“Richie supported me and Ethan, he was helping us with our wedding when his girlfriend decided to cut up pretty little Tara here.” She blew a kiss at Tara, who, in retaliation gave her the middle finger.

“So is that your motive? You only want me dead because you believe I killed your boyfriend's brother?” Sam had asked, in disbelief that her reasoning was as baseless as the rumor that Sam was behind Woodboro.

“No...” She muttered, getting close up and personal, teasing Sam as she dragged the knife down above her chest down to her stomach.

“It’s much more than that.”

“Then get on with it already!” Tara yelled, clearly tired of the ever-long villain monologue, the ferocity catching up to her quicker than the shock did; everyone had trusted (y/n), but clearly, she was on their side. She always was, ever since day one.

(y/n) paused in her tracks, shooting a glare at the younger Carpenter sister before slashing her arm as well, yelling out in frustration as her speech was stopped. “Oh, you’re feistier than the book portrays you to be,” pausing to take a breath, (y/n) wiped the blade clean.

“But clearly none of you were able to connect the little dots. Even that unkillable cockroach Gale Weathers. I’m jealous that you got to do it, Quinn.” Looking up at her, Quinn sent her a wink before beginning to sink again.

“They weren’t the only ones grieving-”

Having enough of the speech, Tara swung one of the prop bricks at (y/n)’s head, causing her to go down, and for the Ghostfaces to attack, this one, in particular, being Quinn.

Tara swung another brick at Quinn, getting a two-for-one deal before heading for the fire escape-like exit the trio earlier were going to retreat to, with Sam downgrading and absolutely berating Richie to his father; that he wasn’t capable of anything, and that he had let his girlfriend do all the killing.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, before the Detective could attack, Kirby rose from the dead once again, firing her gun at the orchestrator of the Ghostface killings, only to be stabbed by Ethan.

“Recognize this?”

His victory was short-lived as Sam came up behind him and knocked him out with another stage brick, stabbing him several times before attempting to go for the exit, following her sister.

As the Carpenter sisters made their way around the very much aging railings, the place was falling apart, and when Tara got to a part that looked like it was in progress, she slipped, with Sam catching her sister right before she fell into the metaphorical jaws of Ethan below her.

“Sam,” Tara muttered, clearly afraid as the blood on her hands wasn’t letting her hold on any longer, “I can't hold on anymore; let me go.” She whispered, with Sam reluctant to let go of her sister, despite Quinn teasing her with the knife coming up. “No,” Sam repeated, despite the choices wearing thin from the siblings.

“We always wanted to stick something in you, Tara!” Ethan yelled, in reference to him and his girlfriend's bloodlust for the death of the younger Carpenter sister.

“Fuck you!”

Back to the Carpenter sisters, Tara once again asked her sister to let her go, Sam gives in and gives her sister a knife, and the younger Carpenter sister drops down and attacks Ethan.

That wasn't until he got a stab at her stomach, with Tara crying out in pain before taking the knife Sam had given her and stabbing Ethan in the Gullet, muttering on about he'll never get to go through with marrying (y/n), and twisted the knife.

After she pulled back, there was a satisfied smile on her face, and there was one on Sam's too as she told Quinn she was down another brother, not minding to leave (y/n) in the dark as the failed sister-in-law.

“Well, you definitely missed the fucked up blood she had. Must suck that she didn't get more of it.”

Quinn screamed out in anger as she charged at Sam with her knife, before ultimately getting shot in the head right in front of her father. Sam mentioned that you always have to shoot them in the head for it to work, before attempting to shoot the Detective with an empty gun.

The two charged at each other when they realized it would either be one or the other, with the two colliding and falling off of the balcony; the detective falling on a display case, and Sam falling on the ground.

The lights blacked out, ironically in the situation the two were in, which gave Sam the chance to dress up in her father’s old Ghostface robe and mask, just as the Detective wanted and called him.

“Hello, Detective Bailey, I’ve got one question for you.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

The detective chuckled as he walked up the stairs to the stage, not far from where his daughter-in-law’s body lay, still on the ground from Tara’s brick attack earlier.

“I’m asking because you’re in one now; you’re in my movie.”

Frantic, and on edge as ever, the Detective shoots at two mannequins dressed in Ghostface robes, and to his avail, Sam wasn’t behind either one.

He notices that the robe from Billy Loomis’ case is gone, and the recognition sinks in, “Oh,” He paused, looking at the case, “I see you’ve put on your true face; your birthright. Poetic that you’re gonna die in it.”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Now you know the truth, huh? Murder’s in your blood!”

Sam continues to taunt the Detective as he impatiently awaits Sam’s arrival, pointing the gun in every direction before he smashes the phone; Sam subsequently shows up behind him and stabs him several times.

Before she gets to finish him off, a very much alive Tara shows up behind the curtain, glancing at the badly injured detective.

“My father was a murderer.” She paused, “No matter what you think, I’m better than that.”

Sam mutters something about messing with her family and proceeds to stab the Detective in the eye before the sisters recollect themselves and sit on the stage outside of the curtain.

As they recollect, the sisters are unaware that Ethan had survived his earlier attack, and got up, knife in his hand, fueled with rage. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fulfill his wish to kill both Sam and Tara as Kirby dropped the TV on his head that killed Stu Macher in the original 1996 killings.

“Saw that in a scary movie once.”

The police arrived not long after the defeat of the Ghostface’s and soon-to-be-killer, with Danny relieved that both Sam and Tara had survived, noting that he figured they’d need reinforcements.

Kirby and Chad were wheeled out, with Mindy arriving not long after, her injuries not stopping her as she complained that she missed the reveal once again.

“I know who the killers are- it’s Ethan and Bailey!” She ran in, exasperated and out of breath.

“And Quinn and (y/n),” Sam added.

“(y/n) too? Did I miss the monologue again?”

“Yeah, they’re wheeling out her body right now. She and Ethan were engaged, and planned this whole thing.”

Mindy’s jaw dropped before mentioning that they had put her on so many drugs and proceeded to climb into the ambulance beside Chad.

The group’s attention was turned on to each other, with the body of (y/n) and Ethan wheeled out together, a body bag covering only Ethan.

“They died right next to each other, it was poetic, I guess,” Tara muttered, the group still unaware of what was unfolding behind them.

A group of paramedics tended to (y/n), who was still unconscious and with a pulse, as the nurses discovered.

“We’ve got a weak pulse!”

The nurses also found some sort of identification on (y/n), which was her driver’s license, and it read her full name:

(y/n) Freeman.

(ahhh!!! part 2 is finally here! what do you guys think of a prequel? ;)

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loveshotzz · 1 year ago

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POSTED

🌇 chapter four <-

(older!eddie manip by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

This is the chapter that sparked it all 🧡 So in honor of that, a snippet below the cut. (Enjoy the little easter egg of older!eddie from @carolmunson ‘s Orange Colored Sky 😉)

The string lights of his front porch catch in your sight while the sounds of Eddie Money echo down the quiet hitting your ears. He was home, but he wasn’t alone.

You slow your pace when you get close enough to smell the smoke of his cigar, and hear the deep baritone of his full belly laugh. Another voice chimes in, it’s raspier, darker and definitely not a woman’s. The unruly pang of jealousy that hits your gut subsides when you reach your apartment and he finally comes into view.

His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, the gray and honey highlights sticking out at the ends like he’s spent the whole night running those big hands through it. His cheeks are flushed with what looks like the end of a fun day with friends, a half smoked cigar tucked between his teeth that show themselves in a wide grin for the man sitting on his porch steps next to him.

He leans on the top step by his elbows, your thighs pressing together when the silver chain that’s usually hidden under his shirt swings over the soft blue tee that fits tight across chest when he laughs again. His cream jeans are loose fitting, stretching at his thighs with dark gray house slippers on his feet.

The guy next to him is not who you’d expect to find, he looks around the same age, gray streaks shining under the porch light in the dark curls that rest tied back in a loose low hanging bun. His chocolate eyes shine with excitement while ring and tattoo covered hands gesture wildly with his story, the ash at the end of his cigar is dangerously close to falling onto the wood of the porch.

Steve picks up the ashtray between the two glasses of a dark liquor like it’s second nature, lifting it up for his friend, making you notice the silver chain that dangles around his wrist when he takes the offering. He’s dressed in all black, a contrast to the light colors of Steve’s wardrobe with a pressed Judas Priest band tee that sits half tucked into the tops of his Chino shorts that fall right above his knee. Black socks and black slides covering his feet.

Bandit’s the first to notice you from his spot on the giant rug by the front door when you reach the gate. His ears perk as he sits up, paws dropping one after the other in excitement. A high pitch whine escapes him catching Steve’s attention. He plucks the cigar from his mouth looking at Bandit before finally following the dog’s line of sight to you. There was no getting out of this now.

You feel like you won some kind of prize at the size of Steve’s smile, lopsided with rosy cheeks pushed up and eyes crinkling in the corners. He sets his cigar down, ignoring the confused look his friend is giving him before sitting up running a hand through his hair making it stand on end.

“She’s alive!” He does his best impression of Dr. Frankenstein sticking his arms out in front of him and you see the man next to him grimace before taking a puff and turning his attention on to you. Curious dark eyes watch Steve and Bandit go to meet you at the gate.

“Yes, I somehow survived.” You can’t help but giggle making the man on the porch shoot his eyebrows up. All the nerve you worked up on the way here is gone when your neighbor gets close enough to see the stubble you liked so much is back.

“I hope the Au Cheval burger helped with that.” He breaths with a smirk, his eyes landing on the to go box that’s threatening to succumb to the iron grip in your hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

Too caught up in how his eyes seem to light up when he asks, it takes you a minute to register that he’s talking about the fish tacos in your hand.

“Oh!! - Sorry - Yes, I didn’t know you had company tonight. I have cannolis in my bag too, I don’t wanna interrupt anything - I can, I can just leave them with you.” Bandit jumps onto the gate while you stutter your words suddenly feeling sixteen again, the feeling of his friend's stare making you shuffle around in place.

Steve opens his mouth ready to protest but he’s interrupted before he gets a chance to say anything.

“Harrington! You gonna invite the pretty girl up for a drink or what?”

The heat rises to your cheeks as you busy yourself with scratching Bandit behind the ear with a free hand. Steve lets out a breath through his nose before pinching the bridge of it. His ears turning red like the cherries on the ends of the cannoli’s in your bag.

“Sorry about my friend,” He takes another beat before he looks up, his eyes smoldering against yours, hope hidden inside the golden specks. “I was going to actually ask you if you’d like to come up for a drink, I promise he’s harmless. He met his wife shopping at Trader Joe’s.”

#all i really want it you series #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington series #older!steve harrington #older!steve #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #eddie munson

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necroromantics · 1 year ago

Text

🧺 —Laundry And Taxes

chapter 6. // (masterlist)

Toby woke up the next morning to a distant sound of something sizzling coming from the kitchen, accompanied by the song of the wildlife outside of his window. It was a cloudy day, the bright blue skies were hidden behind a sheet of gray. On these days, Toby had a particularly difficult time dragging himself out of bed. He didn’t want to talk to anybody, and he didn’t want to do anything. The boys tired, heavy eyes stared up at the ceiling. There was water damage which stained along the edges - it reminded him of the motel room back in Alabama. Toby caught himself toying with the idea of his past again, as if there was a secret to getting back to how everything used to be that was dangling in front of him. It taunted him like a piece of fresh meat to a hungry dog. His body slowly raised to a sitting position on his ragged and torn mattress, as he forced himself out of bed. As he shuffled out of his room, he felt as though there were weights tied to him, dragging him down.

The boy lingered outside of the kitchen, watching Jack as he cooked eggs on the stove. The smell filled the air of the open room, making Toby’s stomach growl as he breathed it in.

“I don’t have any bacon, so I hope you’re fine with only eggs and toast,” Jack spoke, without once looking up from his handiwork cooking slowly on the pan.

“No bacon for breakfast? You’re a freak of nature,” Toby teased back, making his way to the fridge to see what there was to drink. As there was no working power in the cabin, everything was cooled with ice. The way Jack lived was something very familiar to Toby. His small, old, isolated cabin in the woods felt more like home to the boy than when he was in the house he was raised in.

“No bacon. I don’t eat meat.”

“That's ironic,” Toby chuckled to himself, taking out a jug of milk and glancing over to the other. Guilt dripped down Jack's face as thick as tar, it screamed out from his dark brown eyes. It looked as though it was choking him. Toby couldn’t help but stare, before he realized. That guilt, the sickness Jack felt when he ate meat, the fact he couldn’t even bring himself to cook bacon for breakfast, or be around other humans, because of what he had done. All of those things, the guttural remorse, were exactly what made Jack so human, even when he was a monster, and it was everything Toby himself had lacked.

Toby had never felt bad for the things he had done, he never cared about anybody but himself. Nothing mattered to him, not even himself. It was a dog eat dog world, every man for himself. Toby had no intention of letting himself be as weak as to care about such unimportant things. If anything, Jack’s guilt was only a hindrance. It annoyed Toby, almost to the point of rage. ‘Bacon tastes good’, Toby thought to himself, ‘I’m not going to change my diet just because Jack is a pussy’.

Toby poured the milk into a glass, watching Jack finish the last of the eggs. Sunny side up, two slices of toast on the side. No bacon.

“So what? Are you vegetarian now? No meat at all, or just bacon?”

“Yes, I’m sticking to a vegetarian diet now. I can’t bring myself to eat any kinds of meat.”

“I heard human flesh tastes like chicken. Does bacon have the same kick or what?”

Jack ignored the question as he placed the sizzling eggs onto the plate next to him, and handed it to the pestering boy. The man took his own plate and left to eat on the front porch. Toby followed behind him, walking out into the cool open air of autumn. The two sat in silence as they ate their meals. It was a calm, still, sort of silence. Jack was always a quiet man, he never dared to say too much.

“You lucked out with this cabin,” Toby spoke through a full mouth as he gulped down his breakfast. Jack nodded in agreement.

“Back home, yknow in the other world, I had a cabin like this. I uh, I actually shared it with Natalie. Sort of,” The boy rambled to himself, as Jack sat silent looking at Toby, who always seemed to struggle to find the words he wanted to speak.

“Do you miss her?” Jack finally said, after a moment of watching the other pathetically grasp at an excuse to talk about the girl.

“Nat? Why would I miss her? She was a bitch.”

“I thought you two were friends, no?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. That's why we shared a cabin, it was our place to meet up,” Toby smiled to himself as words began to fall from his mouth, “I remember all the times she’d get pissed at me, or I’d get pissed at her, and we’d start going nuts. Throwing things, breaking glass. Man I can’t fucking count how many holes in the wall from my hatchets there were in that cabin. And don’t get me started on all the times she’d storm out, and I’d see her again the next day. Talk about crazy.”

“I’m sure you’ll see her again someday, Toby.”

“I hope not.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at the boy's rejection. He could tell that the girl was important to him, he saw the way his face beamed when he thought about her, he saw the way his body eased away from the tension he always held onto so tightly. The sun had never shone so brightly.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, she was cool. But it would just be awkward, and I don’t think she wants anything to do with me.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know man. I guess it’s like… She spent so long trying to get away from me. It felt like every time I saw her, it ended with me angry, and her leaving. If she is in this world, I can only picture her happy alone.”

Jack was easy to talk to. He was an active listener of sorts, he was the type of person who never judged or shamed. Someone to trust, something solid to lean on. Toby found solace in the company of the man, a type of friendship he had never known. The monster man and the feral mutt. It was a running joke in the old world that Jack was Toby’s babysitter, and everybody would tease and ask how Jack could tolerate that troublemaker like he did. Only Jack saw the moments in the boy when the violence dripped away, and humanity seeped out from the callouses in his aching hands, and ducts of his desensitized eyes. The man kept this image of the reckless, callous boy in his mind, so close to his heart, it always shocked him when he heard the boy speak about himself as if he weren’t anything but a weapon. Because Jack knew, more than anyone, that humanity was found on mornings like these, while listening to a boy like Toby talk about a girl with his thumbs twiddling, and his eyes fixed to the ground. That image of Toby sitting there, cracking his chest open to the one person he could ever begin to trust, scrambling to find the right words to describe how it feels. That, to Jack, was what it meant to be human.

Later in the afternoon, Jack had decided to take Toby along on a walk. He said there was a place deep in the woods that he wanted to show him. Without having anything better to do, Toby followed closely behind the man as he led the boy through a hidden path winding between the tall trees that stood over them. The cloudy skies had begun to part, revealing a soft blue from behind the gray blanket, and a bright light peeked out, gleaming through the ceiling of orange and yellow autumn leaves that branched overhead. The overgrowth cracked and crinkled beneath their feet as the two continued through the nature, taking in all of the earth's beauty.

As the two men walked along the dirt path, Toby found himself picking at the tall evergreen trees that mixed in with the oak. When Jack questioned him about it, Toby shook his head.

“Natalie hated flowers mostly. But I remembered how much she loved evergreen trees. She always smelt like pine needles.”

He picked off another needle and flicked it onto the ground as he walked past, jogging ahead of Jack.

“I hated the smell,” Toby insisted as he shoved his hands into his sweater pocket.

Jack quickened his pace to catch up with the boy who was now huffing to himself in disdain. It seemed as though the more time that had passed, the more thoughts of that cruel girl filled the boy's mind. He wished to be able to forget about her, and he didn’t understand why.

“Do you still carry your hatchets with you?” Jack questioned.

Toby slowed down, glancing awkwardly over at the other like a bad dog.

“Uh, just one, why?”

“Why don’t you come out here some day and chop wood for the stove? You can put your skills to use.”

The boy thought about it for a moment. He had rarely ever used his hatchets for their intended purpose back home, he knew how to split skulls, not wood.

“I guess if I need to. But I’m trying to keep it sharp in case I need to… Yknow,” Toby said, dragging his thumb over his throat in a slitting motion and grimacing.

“Why would you need to kill anybody here?”

“You never know!”

Toby ran off ahead, hitting at tree leaves as he hopped along the path, occasionally glancing back to make sure Jack was keeping up. He would jump onto fallen logs, and climb branches. He seemed to have much more energy than he had in the morning, and much more restless. Jack smiled to himself at the sight of the boy carelessly fooling around in the woods, it was a nice sight to see. A teenage boy being something more than a cold-hearted weapon. It seemed as though, for a moment, Toby had reclaimed his innocence.

Jack led Toby off the path, and through untouched land, pushing past the growth and out into an open field. The two stood on top of a large, towering cliff which looked out over a twisting valley. The brilliant warmth of the sun beamed down, the skies were now clear and blue, the fall trees swayed gently. The wide green earth sprawled from the tall hill the men looked out from. It was magnificent, beautiful. Standing there on that peak, everything beyond seemed so small. They were on top of the world. The forest below lived on with orange and yellow hues, like a sea of rust. The sky appeared endless as it draped overhead.

For a moment, as he stared out at all of the grand radiance, Toby lost his breath. The colors were vibrant, and the sounds of the wildlife around him sang symphonies of nature. He had never witnessed anything like it before. The forest back in the old world was dim, dark, devoid of animation. He resided for so long in a place where life was something to be taken, and as he stood out over the sea of mother earth, in all of her vast entirety, he felt his chest sink into his stomach.

He took a deep breath in of the crisp, clean air. A light breeze swayed past him. And in one sharp exhale, Toby hollered out, and threw his arms up. He stood there, atop the hill, laughing and shouting out in victory. He looked over at Jack with a big smile plastered on his face, and Jack smiled back. There was a fire in his eyes, and he was so young. Toby grabbed Jack’s arm, and lifted it up with his, as he continued to shout out. Soon, Jack joined him.

The pair screamed their lungs raw as they laughed at the beauty beyond them. On that late afternoon, in the midst of that forest, on top of that hill, they were alive. It was horrific, and it was painful, and it was terrible, but they were alive, and they were more human than they had ever been before.

Finally losing his breath, Toby fell back, and laid chuckling to himself through heavy inhales and exhales, his back pressing into the meadow beneath him. Jack quickly joined him, and took a seat next to the boy, both catching their spent breath, smiling widely to themselves.

“That… That’s how I want to feel, every day of my life,” Toby panted.

“It’s wonderful.”

“I just need to work harder, do more. I think I’ll take your advice and put my hatchet skills to use.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” Jack said, smiling to himself that for once, Toby had actually listened to the words Jack so often preached.

A few days had passed, and October had come rushing in. Toby had begun going off on his own for hours on end. Jack never knew what the boy was up to, and he knew better than to ask. The man always did his best not to push Toby too much, worried that he might push back harder if he did. But there were nights when the boy would stumble back into the cabin, dirt crusting his jeans, and his eyes fixed into a glare. Jack would always warn the careless other not to push his body past its limits. Toby never listened.

“Be careful not to overwork yourself, Toby.”

“Hop off my ass.”

Toby pushed past the man, and placed his hatchet down onto the kitchen table. His hands were calloused, dirty. He never brought back wood.

“You need to let yourself rest at some point,” Jack suggested, looming over Toby.

“No, I need to work harder. I need to do more. Make all of this shit amount to something.”

“You talk like you’re fighting for a badge that says you deserve to live. You do not need to earn your place in this world, Toby. You’re going to hurt yourself pushing your body like this.”

Toby slammed his hands onto the surface of the table as he turned around to face the man standing behind him.

“I don’t give a fuck what happens to me, Jack. I don’t care if I’m overworking myself, I don’t care if I’m pushing myself too far. Get it through your thick fucking skull that I don’t care!”

Toby gritted his teeth and dusted the mud off of his clothes, before heading off into his room. There was a deep feeling of indifference to his existence, as if he had done far too much to have a place in the world. He was left with no choice but to continue fighting. If he couldn’t do that much, then what was to become of him? He couldn’t let that flame expire, he was hungry for revenge, to prove everyone wrong. He wanted to prove that he, too, deserved a spot in the colosseum of the living.

Jack couldn’t seem to get it through to the stubborn boy that he didn’t need to destroy himself to live. He couldn’t get him to relax. There was lightning in his eyes, it sparked from his tongue as he shouted, and it was in Jack’s best interest to stay out of his way.

The next morning, Toby stood out at the edge of the forest, swinging at a log, as Jack watched from the front porch sipping a cup of tea. Despite his handiwork with his hatchet, and how he gripped it as if he knew what he was doing, Toby couldn’t seem to chop wood in any way that worked. It felt sloppy, like he was missing the mark. Shouting out in frustration, Toby threw his hatchet down to the ground and kicked at the log, which prompted Jack to stand up, and walk over to the temperamental boy.

“You said I had skill! I can’t even fucking chop this log in half,” The boy complained.

“What do you envision when you swing your hatchet down?”

“Well I just go at it like I’m chopping off some heads.”

“There’s your issue, Toby. This is wood, not a neck. Different situations require different responses. You have a lot of skill with that hatchet of yours, but you use it as a weapon, not as a tool.”

Jack bent down, picking up the tool off the ground and handed it back to Toby who had anger worn on his face like a party mask.

“Try again.”

Toby glared daggers at Jack as he reeled back his hatchet as far as he could, before throwing it hard at a tree, and past Jack. There was a loud thud as it hit the bark, sticking out from the oak. Toby mouthed off silently at Jack as he kicked dirt and stormed off into the forest. Jack sighed to himself at the difficult situation, and went to pull out the tool which was lodged into a tree behind him.

Mid October had soon rolled in, and the woods had now turned into a decaying orange rust, leaves had begun to pile up onto the forest grounds. The nights had gotten longer, and Toby’s attitude and defiance hadn’t seemed to improve. He had begun to get restless, often attempting to start petty disputes with Jack, in which Jack never bothered to entertain. The man was very collected and calm, he never lost control over himself. It was a skill he had learnt as a demon, in all those fights against himself. Toby, on the other hand, often lost himself to dramatics and pride. Everything was a battle to him, and he needed to come out on top.

Toby had returned back late into the evening, as he typically did. Jack was standing in the kitchen, reading silently to himself, the light of candles illuminating the dark cabin. It was a quiet night.

Not looking up from his book he was immersed in, Jack took a breath in, smelling a strange fragrance. He felt sick to his stomach as the putrid, metallic scent strangled his nostrils. Lifting his head up towards the smell, he watched as Toby dropped a dead rabbit at his feet. The two stood silently, both looking down at the carcass which Toby had brought home, the blood of the animal staining his hands. The boy eyed the man's expression, which showed nothing but indifference. Jack remained quiet.

“Just thought I’d bring home some supper,” Toby spoke out, nudging the animal with his muddy shoe.

Jack looked up at the boy, before turning back to his book.

“You shouldn’t make messes that you aren’t willing to clean up,” Jack responded softly, flipping through the pages to find where he had left off.

Frustrated at the lack of response once again, Toby rolled his eyes and left for his bedroom, hatchet gripped in his bloody hand.

Once the boy had made his leave, Jack exhaled deeply, as if he had been holding his breath. He looked down at the decaying corpse at his feet once more, before picking it up by the ears, and bringing it outside. Jack placed it under a tall oak tree that stood on the edge of the forest surrounding his cabin, letting nature take care of the rabbit. He entered back into the house, and washed off his hands, before heading to Toby’s room. He knocked gently on the door, waiting for approval that it was alright to come in. There was only the sound of awkward shuffling for a moment.

“Come in,” Toby called out, prompting Jack to open the door, closing it behind him.

“Tomorrow I’m going into a nearby town. We need more ice, and food.”

“Get some more orange juice, maybe some peaches,” Toby requested as he laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“You should come with me. We can stop by a local church,” Jack suggested, making Toby groan and sit up.

“Church? Seriously? Why the fuck would you of all people want to go to church?”

“Because, Toby, sometimes people need something bigger than themselves to look towards.”

“And that's supposed to make us feel better? Some random fucker in the sky saying we need to kiss his ass in order to be free of everything we don’t feel like carrying?”

“I’m not asking you to devote yourself, but it does help act as a guidance. To help you understand that you can let everything go, with no strings attached. You can give back what you’ve taken, and make your peace with the world.”

“Maybe try asking the world to make peace with me first,” Toby muttered to himself as he ran one of his hands over his other one, the rabbit's blood still stained into his skin.

“God can forgive you for the sins you’ve committed.”

Jack was never a religious man. He was brought to church every Sunday as a child, which ended up with him in college, where he wouldn’t have touched a Bible even if asked to. But Jack spent so much time alone, bastardized, demonized, he knew nothing else but to cling to the idea of retribution and begging to a God he was terrified of. He had spent too much time as a not-man who couldn’t kneel in church.

“I can’t imagine anyone would forgive me for what I’ve done.”

“I do. I forgive you,” Jack said. Toby scoffed.

“Don’t bother.”

The air grew heavy with tension. The fire and the deep sea.

“I know what it’s like to kill somebody, Toby. I know how heavy that burden is.”

“You don’t know shit,” Toby lowered his voice, his eyes darkened. Something of a warning for Jack to watch his mouth.

“It seems we always come back to these pointless conversations,” Jack sighed.

“Yeah? Well maybe say something useful. Preach some bullshit that actually fucking helps me for once.”

“You know, Toby. There is nothing I can say to help you. I realize that now.”

Toby’s chest tightened, he stood up face to face with Jack, his brow furrowed.

“You gonna just drop me off somewhere else like Tim and Brian did now too?”

“That’s not what I’m saying-”

“Oh really? No, you’re just saying that I’m helpless, right? That nothing is going to ever get better? Is… Is any of this ever going to go away?” Toby’s voice cracked as he choked back all the things he wanted to shout out.

“There is no big epiphany or deep conversations that can fix this for you. You need to take steps every day to learn how to do better for yourself, and I can’t take those steps for you, and I can’t make you do anything. I wish you would help yourself, but I see you make the choice every day to ruin yourself.”

“I don’t know how to fucking help myself!”

“You learn.”

“I’m sick of learning and I’m sick of this and I’m sick of you. I should’ve left as soon as I got here,” Toby spoke loudly, grabbing all of his things scattered around his room, and packing them into his backpack. Jack watched as the boy desperately grasped at straws. He knew better than anybody that he couldn’t save Toby, that he could only watch as he crashed and burned. There was nothing anyone could do for him, but gather around and look up to the sky as they watched his wax wings melt. Dread built in Jack’s weary heart. The terrible sight, seeing the beeswax drip away, as Toby recklessly disregarded his own limits, and the limits of everyone around him. He pushed and pushed, and Jack had no choice but to witness Toby wear himself down.

Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, he pushed past Jack, sniffling to himself as he held his hatchet tightly in his hand. Without another word, the furious boy stormed out of the cabin and into the night, as Jack silently watched. It was a quiet mid-October night, and the stars were dimmer than usual in the brooding dark sky. The waning crescent barely illuminated the gravel road. The silhouette of the boy was quickly engulfed by the dark abyss he walked out into.

Jack sighed to himself, once again in his lonesome company, and made his way back into his cabin. He repeated to himself that there was nothing more he could’ve done, but the guilt consumed him. His old friend had been right once again - it was his own mind that would be the death of Jack. The man climbed into his creaky, old bed, and tried not to think too much. He prayed for the first time in a long time that night.

#tombwrites #tombfic #creepypasta #ticci toby #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #toby rogers #creepypasta ticci toby #eyeless jack #creepypasta eyeless jack #ticci toby fanfiction #ticci toby fanfic #ticci toby creepypasta

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pilferingapples · 1 year ago

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(only answer this if you're in the mood for it of course) If you had to choose one colour and one single object for each of the five books in Les Miserables, which ones would you choose and (optionally) why?

oooh what a fun complicated question, I love this question! SHOCKINGLY I got long-winded about symbolism in the Long Winded Symbolism Book:

Tome 1: Fantine Color: Gold/ yellow gold for Fantine's hair, and also as a color strongly tied to wealth; no other volume is going to focus quite as much on finances as this chapter, from the Bishop and the wealth he rejects, to Valjean and his rising economic status, to Fantine and the commodification of her life to gain a few gold coins here and there. Object: a cart-wheel. I thought about the candle-sticks, and jet beads, and ships, and even teeth,but it's gotta be a cart-wheel. The wheels that carry the passengers and drivers of society but have no energy of their own; the wheels that crush anyone who falls underneath them, that take enormous force and energy and even demand the risking of life to move, break and splinter when needed to right injustice, and block all progress when stilled. The cart-wheels that stop when the horse dies, block off all hope of success at the Waterloo Inn, crush Fauchevelent and almost stop Valjean from saving his own soul. Frigging cart wheels.

Tome 2: Cosette Color: Black the color of a night in the dark forest, the inside of a grave or sunken road, Paris in the silence of a dark chase, a nun's habit. The color of despair, sure, the color of imprisonment, yes, but also the color of concealment, meditation, the unknown, peace. Object: I also considered: a water-bucket, a broken chain (for Cosette and Valjean both in this Book!), and Catherine the doll-- but it has to be a coffin. I'd say a tomb, but a coffin is more visually iconic and , of course, more immediately relevant to JVJ . LM is full of tomb and coffin imagery, but this is THE Tome of Tombs and coffins -- the impromptu tombs of the sunken road of Ohain, the chosen symbolic tomb of the convent itself (the nuns have to symbolically die and be reborn to fully enter!), the literal and ironically lifesaving coffin that Valjean is buried in. Tome 3: Marius MAN THIS ONE WAS SO HARD

Color: Green I REALLY AGONIZED ON THIS , it was Green or Blue though ; but the only real strong Blue imagery here is it being part of Marius' vision of Cosette

Green though! the color of growing things and spring and little seedlings just starting to grow, and flowers and Flora, and of Marius' secondhand coat , which looks black at night. New beginnings hidden in mourning , despite the losses of the past; flowers and growing things as signs of loss and loss as a beginning! It's what this Tome is all about, growth from grief and loss, and the grief and loss that comes from growth. Object: a piece of paper, folded into a letter. We won't get Marius' Epic Love Note until next Tome, but letters have enough of a starring role here as is! The letters Gillenormand burns to keep Marius apart from his father; the letter that doesn't burn that sends Marius to his father's deathbed; the note from his father that becomes his talisman (until lost); the letters that Thenardier sends to beg (and extort?) money, that connect Marius to Eponine and then Cosette again; letters as proof of status, proof that " we weren't meant to be like this--" ; letters as proof of identity, as love, as warnings, as traps. Letters as connection across time and generations and class and death. Tome IV: The Idyll and the Epic Color: Red Object: The Barricade look maybe both these options are stereotypical here but they are also correct. There's a whole song and years of Tumblr jokes about everything Red symbolizes and it's all in play here. It's desire and dawn and wine and warmth and death and revolution and warning and blood and fire and flowers and love. Especially love.

And the barricade is not just the single biggest Symbolic Object in the novel, it's especially the symbol of everything together, every loaded Symbolic Object in the whole book, wagon wheels and windows and doors and letters and stones and carts and yeah, probably coffins, the way this part of the novel is everyone's storylines coming together. A heap of joy and a heap of sorrows, all coming together to fight desperately for something better. Sometimes things are iconic for a reason.

Tome V: Jean Valjean Color: White White for dawn that's not the hour of waking; for Cosette's wedding gown; for a bottle of ink; for untouched marble and stone after the writing is washed away. Object : THE CANDLESTICKS I almost went with these for Tome I but no!! they belong here! in Valjean's Book! HIS symbols, that he finally gets to pass on , and oh geez if I get going on that I will NEVER post this, but you get it anyway right? you get it. It's gotta be the candlesticks, here at the end.

Thank you ! this was very fun to think about!!

#answereds #Object symbols #I banned myself from living things on this #and from Light Sources #yes there's the candlesticks but the not the CANDLES it is DIFFERENT #this was so fun to think about #STILL NOT SURE ON THE MARIUS COLOR #OPEN TO DEBATE #long post

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deathscastleofficielle · 3 months ago

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Breaking down my designs for the Main Bros

Hey, happy anniversary! Seven years ago today I published the very first chapter of Death's Castle! (and then a few years later I went back and rewrote it to better match my current skill level but LETS NOT WORRY ABOUT THAT-)

So in celebration of seven years, how about I actually talk about the design processes for the Bros and what's going on with their looks.

Quick note, since I already discussed many of the Bros' body types, I won't be rehashing that. We'll mainly be focusing on face, hair, and clothes. I will also be bringing up some of the old fandom artists that inspired me, but I once again ask that you please do not bother them as they have long moved on from this fandom (this does not apply to Jack or Zoe, they are my friends, go give them some love).

Also, spoilers for the fic below.

Stephano the Statue (+Janus)

Stephano is a statue, an artistic representation of idealized beauty, and thus is meant to be very handsome but in a way that makes him stick out from the rest of the castle. In a place where most everyone is pale and starving, Stephano's chiseled and healthy features can make him look uncanny. A quite literal case of "don't trust a pretty face."

One of his most notable features is his eyes, and specifically how little detail they actually have. In White Lily, Mayo notes that Stephano's eyes lack "deeper color" but have a metallic shine to them. In other words, his eyes appear flatter compared to others. Again, this is supposed to make him look more statue-like. I also tend to give him a more defined nose than others in my art, owing to his Arab heritage.

His long hair, often kept in a low ponytail, is borrowed from many pre-existing depictions of the character. I think we all just like the Finn the Human-type trope of a character who mostly keeps their hair covered but then it's revealed their hair is actually super long. And while most fan depictions made Stephano clean-shaven, in one of the videos he actually confirms that he has a beard, so I gave him a bit of a goatee.

As mentioned before, Stephano's outfit design was actually stolen and edited from the artist blackbeltkitten009 for their now discontinued comic The Stephano Chronicles. When I began Death's Castle, my goal was to create updated designs for the Bros, to provide a visual of the timeskip between the videos (where I tend to use design elements that were generally popular in the fandom at the time) and the fanfiction. However, Stephano is a bit difficult to make an updated design for because of all the Bros he has the most humanoid appearance in the videos, given that he's a statuette and actually has clothes. (An admittedly ironic statement, given that in Death's Castle proper his gold skin makes him unable to pass as fully human)

There were a couple elements that drew me to blackbeltkitten009's design in particular; for starters the design had a lot of drama to it without being over the top. There was one thing in particular that made me decide to use it though, and that was the ruby brooch.

In Death's Castle, Stephano shares his body with an entity he has named Janus, an element taken from the Disponentia custom story playthrough. When Janus is in control, Stephano's eyes glow red followed by everything gold on his body becoming pitch black. The ruby brooch acts as a bridge between these two forms. On Stephano, the red is a pop of color against his otherwise monochromatic design, with the color scheme adding a regal heroism to him, much like how Stephano would like to see himself. On Janus however, the red ties into his eyes and adds to the sinister appearance.

Is that a bit cheesy? Yes, but I was a teenager when I started this, give me a break.

Also as a sidenote, Janus' color scheme came from a misunderstanding. You see my first encounter with him was of someone's description of him. I didn't know which video "Evil Stephano" originated in, and for awhile I even believed he was something the fandom made up. Like Red Chair! But I must have misread "glowing eyes" as specifically glowing red eyes. However, when actually watching Disponentia it turns out his eyes are actually glowing white and his color is maybe a dark bronze. I like where the chips landed but if I began Death's Castle today, I probably would have made him closer to his appearance in the videos. But this would definitely call for a different Stephano design.

Piggeh the Pig

Piggeh's characterization was inspired by the scene and emo trends of the early 2010s. Not only the fun stuff which makes up his outward personality, but also some of the harsher realities that were going on in those subcultures.

One of the first decisions I made was to change his shirt color from pink to something else. For awhile it was going to be white since that was the only color I can think of that didn't clash with his color scheme, but didn't like it since I felt it would be too washed out on his pale skin. I ended up instead settling on a bright red (starting to notice a pattern?). This felt like a natural escalation of Piggeh's previous pink attire, as both are considered romantic/sexual colors. In fact Piggeh's color scheme is meant to evoke the typical garish valentine's day. The particular shade of red's gaudiness also says a lot about Piggeh; he doesn't put a lot of care into his appearance. On the other hand though, the red picks up on all of the eternally bloodied scars on Piggeh's body. Piggeh and blood are very well acquainted, and the tattered red shirt is a constant reminder of that fact.

The brown fishnet vest was another early design decision. Fishnets are often seen as provocative and are associated with adult entertainment, thus him having a vest made of the material is an easy shorthand for his sexual behavior without exposing too much skin. In fact early on the vest was hot pink, but I think someone pointed out how hard it was to see against the red so I changed it to dark brown.

The bandages on his arms are picked up from several pre-existing depictions of Piggeh such as StephanoTheStatue's and Mister-Chair's, but in Death's Castle they serve a plot purpose; hiding his self harm scars. Finally, the look is completed with brown jeans and a pair of work boots, calling back to his farm origins.

While most people tend to give Piggeh unnaturally colored eyes, most popular being pink to match his hair, I decided to give my depiction of Piggeh brown eyes like most real pigs tend to have. He also has snake-like pupils, owing to his famous line from the videos; "You thought I was a pig? Nah, I'm a snake!" One eye has a long scar over it in a somewhat diamond shape, but tends to curve in a way that can almost make it resemble a snake. His other eye, often kept hidden by his hair, is surrounded by a larger scar and blackened by hyphema, otherwise known as an 8 Ball Fracture. This was inspired by the character of 2D from the band Gorillaz.

His pink hair was originally shorter if just a bit messy, owing to the fact that I used to only be able to draw about two hairstyles for men. However when Jack ( @thesucessorofficalnot ) drew him, he gave Piggeh a longer and uneven cut more reminiscent of scene queen hairstyles, so I started using it myself.

Finally, one thing I want to mention is that Piggeh was designed to be very feminine looking, to the point he could easily pass as a woman. This started as sort of a joke because whenever I would show people in real life fan art of Piggeh they would consistently mistake him for a woman, likely due to his pink color scheme, so I just adopted it as a feature for him. His adoptive mother Bunny was even designed to look masculine as a compliment to his feminine design. This ended up being somewhat downplayed in the fic itself, as generally speaking the Bros aren't too concerned with how outwardly masculine or feminine someone is.

Oh and fun fact. Lately when I've drawn Piggeh or Fleur, I've drawn them with the same eye shape.

Mr. Green Chair

Appearance wise Mr. Chair doesn't veer too far off from the typical depictions. Short brown hair, light-skinned, wearing glasses and a green beret. He is often depicted as having either brown or green eyes, and I chose green to compliment his siblings' color themed naming, hence his first name being "Green" in the fanfic. One important factor regarding his appearance is that while most versions of Mr. Chair are presumably white, mine is biracial, and specifically Japanese. This is mainly to reference his appearances in the playthrough of Ao Oni, a game made and set in Japan.

Mr. Chair is similarly hard to redesign like Stephano, but for different reasons. Mr. Chair's design is pretty set in stone in the fandom, usually depicted in a green sweater vest or cardigan and a simple dress shirt. In general his look is very preppy, very academia. So how do I update that for a years later look?

Well admittedly I had already drawn up some designs based on basically a male version of Elizabeth's outfit from Bioshock Infinite. And we'll swing back around to Elizabeth later, but for now I basically had this lying around and slapped it on Mr. Chair. I simply changed the colors so that the blazer was his signature deep green, and the lining on his dress shirt was a reddish purple. There was originally no pattern on the shirt, but the amazing ZoeDraws did some awesome artwork of the Bros and on Mr. Chair they included a light grey vine/floral pattern so I have also adopted that in at least some of my art.

While on the surface the outfit is typical for a bookworm character, the rather bold combination of green and magenta is surprisingly flamboyant. My friend even comared him to a toxic frog. I think this acts as a bit of subtle foreshadowing to the more unsettling parts of Mr. Chair's character, such as his past drug use. It also shows a bit of his creativity, as presumably Mr. Chair made or altered these clothes himself, given his sewing skills.

And while not fully intentional, the outfit parallels Red Chair, who similarly wears a red and black blazer patterned like Pewdie's modern branding and a red hat. Perhaps Mr. Chair can't help but want to emulate his older brother?

Jennifer the Rock

Jennifer's look was solidified very early on due to the popular traits she was given in fan art. Long black hair, pale skin, gray eyes. The most important element of her design is that she is plus sized due to Pewdie constantly insulting the character for being fat. An unfortunate artifact of the time's humor that is explored more thoroughly and compassionately in Death's Castle proper.

While actually letting her be fat sounds like a no-brainer nowadays, this was not the case in the fandom back then. Most people tended to make Jennifer skinny, some even giving her an eating disorder of some sort to justify it. And the few who did make Jenny fat were tending to continue the joke from the videos. Now I don't say this to act all superior, frankly speaking Pewds put us in an awkward position, and I'm sure for a lot of the artists they didn't want to offend anyone or maybe it even hit too close to home for some.

However, it was important to me to actually give Jennifer the body type she was assigned to, and to not only show the struggles fat women are faced with, but that fat can be beautiful. Especially without being sexualized. (see my pride headcanons for more on that) It also provided a bit of a contrast to how we see fat today vs how fat was seen in the past.

Jennifer originally kept her hair down as seen in some of the past segments of Death's Castle, but by the present day her hair is worn in a ponytail. This was actually an element inspired by a doodle Punkichi did, depicting their Jennifer in an alternate hairstyle. I liked it, so I adopted it for mine. Her hair also covers one of her eyes to show her shyer and insecure personality. Finally, I used a popular accessory often given not to human Jennifer but to the rock version of Jennifer in non-gijinka fanart. A bow. Which also inspired me to make her an archer because I thought it was funny for her to have two different kinds of bows.

In an attempt to get back her memories through an orb shard, Jennifer falls into a trance and ends up severing her pinky finger. What may initially seem like a random injury actually holds a lot of meaning when Jennifer's past as Genevieve is taken into account. For starters, as a lady of high society, Genevieve had to have proper etiquette, and we all know the rule of sticking your pinky finger out when drinking tea. Cutting it off shows that Jennifer is no longer that proper girl. On a dourer note, the pinky finger is also associated with the pinky swear or pinky promise. Losing that finger in this sense symbolizes promises that were never fulfilled.

Each of the Bros had a signature color of sorts. Pewdie was blue, Stephano was gold/yellow, Piggeh was pink, and Mr. Chair was green. Jennifer on the other hand didn't really have a solid agreed upon color in the fandom that wasn't just gray. So it only made sense to make Jennifer's purple. This was for a few reasons. It was an appropriately feminine color to put on the one girl in the group without infringing on Piggeh and even Marzia's pink, it paired nicely with all the grays in her color scheme, it worked as an opposite against Stephano's yellow, and finally; purple was a color often associated with wealth and power.

Jennifer is a bit of an interesting case outfit wise since she initially starts with a different outfit, but quickly changes into a new one in the seventh chapter. This was mainly because I struggled with her costume design the most out of any of the Bros. I initially wanted to play with the idea of moss growing on a rock and paired this with a look meant to focus on her archery skill, but this design was rather ugly and uninspired- not to mention it used far too much green for a character who was supposed to be associated with purple, so it was retconned to instead be a simple gray tank top and black leggings.

I actually eventually took inspiration from Jack's version of Jenny. I designed a letterman jacket style gray hoodie with white sleeves that had purple morning glories and mint green vines embroidered on them. This was paired with a dusty purple t-shirt that had the brofist symbol on it and a pinkish purple pleated skirt that matched her signature hair bow. She kept the black leggings and gray boots from her previous design. This design ended up suiting Jenny more and setting the tone for her style, as it better fit her fangirl characterization from the original videos.

Interestingly, in both her concept design and her current one, Jennifer is the only one who actually wears her flower motif on her person. Perhaps in a way it shows that she's the most self-actualized of her group? Alternatively, it furthers her resemblance to Fleur, and shows how Stephano can't help but see the lady with the flowers in those around him.

Also I apologize to everyone I've ever confused by describing the mauve color of Jennifer's ribbon and skirt as VIOLET. I had a crayon that was apparently horribly mislabeled, so I associated a pinkish-purple color with the word violet.

Mayo the Small Table

Mayo is one of the most important characters in Death's Castle. His sudden reappearance after what the Bros were led to believe was a childhood death is what kicks the plot into action, and throughout the story acts as the deuteragonist since the story is just as much about him and how he grows up as much as it is about Stephano. During the videos he was only nine years old, which presented an interesting challenge for his Death's Castle design. While everyone else started as adults and were only getting a little older in comparison, Mayo went from a child to a young teenager.

Mayo's childhood design is rather typical for the fandom. Short blonde hair, gold or brown eyes, a light colored t-shirt, brown overalls and a matching cap. A cute if potentially rowdy kid. His teenage design shifts drastically, presenting a more mature- but still youthful- version of the character.

This is where we swing back to Elizabeth, as the Bioshock character influenced a lot of Mayo's characterization. Specifically, the motif of a bird caged for the mysterious use of those who trapped it. As such, I pretty much took elements of her first outfit and slapped them onto Mayo. The collared shirt, necktie, even his birdcage brooch is lifted from one of two pins Elizabeth wears on her choker. His color scheme is made up of white, soft browns, and pastel yellow, evoking innocence and light. You look at this version of Mayo and want to protect him.

However, that protection can be stifling to someone trying to grow, so Mayo undergoes a dramatic change later on. After his clothes get ruined by blood, he swaps out most of his outfit for a simpler get up of a white dress shirt and black slacks, and this is accompanied by a rather dramatic new piece. The coat that once belonged to Alexander himself.

This is where we finally acknowledge the recurring use of red. Each of the main Bros uses some shade of red in their designs. Sometimes this is more straightforward such as Stephano and Piggeh, other times it's more subtle such as Mr. Chair's magenta or Jennifer's accents of pink. This was for one big reason, PewDiePie himself. In his early days, Pewds was associated with the color blue. He even adopted a light blue color for his brofist icon. However, things have changed since then. Nowadays he uses red. This common color scheme also shows that the Bros are a more unified team than they once were.

But then there's Mayo, who initially looks quite out of place, and he is. They are essentially an outsider by now, unfamiliar with the greater workings of the Bro Army and having to catch up on the five years they were missing in action. The Bros' protectiveness over him also others him, puts him on a pedestal, and this even leads to Stephano and Mr. Chair electing to kick him out of the castle, thinking it would be best for him to grow up among humans. As such, when he returns in Alexander's coat, in the red shade the group has adopted, he is sending a clear message. He won't be pushed aside anymore. The red and gold color scheme also draws comparisons to Stephano in particular. Once again, the story is just as much about him as it is our favorite statue.

The red also ties into his flower motif, and the reveal that his "flower chapters" work differently than his adult companions. Since he is still so young, for all intents and purposes his backstory is still ongoing. He initially starts with a white lily, symbolizing innocence and death. This is a melancholic flower, reflecting the sad situation of a child having been robbed of his freedom by enemies and family alike. His motif then changes to a scarlet lily, represent passion and lofty aspirations. This is a Mayo who has been pushed to the edge and now refuses to be a passive player in his own life.

His hair has grown out from his childhood and is now kept in a short ponytail. This was an idea I lifted from AskMayo's version of the character, as it added more variety to the cast. This person was also where I got the idea of Mayo using daggers to fight. (Quick note, ages were not universally agreed on in the fandom. This person's Mayo is older and was often sexualized by the artist.)

Now, there is one more thing I want to bring up about Mayo's design that no one actually knew until now; Both of his costume designs are based off circus attire. His first outfit, along with being stolen from Bioshock, is meant to resemble an acrobat's costume, complimenting his flexibility and fighting style. He loses that in his second outfit, but it has a subtler connation. With the long red coat, Mayo looks like the stock ringleader.

Conclusions

While making this post, I talked with Jack and he pointed out something I hadn't really put into words until now. My approach to designing the characters was very theatrical. Since I went for more human designs overall, I had to rely on costuming and styling to get my points across. And honestly, given that I've been in theater my whole life, and it's shaped the way I tell stories, I find that very fitting.

I could go on about why I designed characters in certain ways. There are so many characters, and I put a lot of work into each of them. However, quite frankly I just don't have the time so I'll just leave it at this;

There was a time when I wasn't sure I would ever write this story, and it's crazy to realize that I've been doing it for seven years now. Some years were more plentiful than others, I mean we definitely had a slow start, but I can't believe how far I've gotten. We're nearing what I would consider the end of the first season, the characters have evolved so much and there's so much more waiting around the corner.

To everyone who has supported me, whether you've been here since the beginning or found me along the way, thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know if I'd even be here without you guys.

Anyway I need to go rest my fingers because I talk way too much.

#Stephano #Piggeh #Mr. Chair #Jennifer #Mayo #Janus #Bros #Death's Castle #Death's Castle spoilers #author's notes

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dcviated · 15 days ago

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crimmas prompts :: open

tis the season!!!

@unionized-shopkeep sent: "We are not hanging mistletoe." (For Dogi)

The declaration falls on Dogi like a coconut from a palm tree. He shrinks down like a scolded pet, turning to give the half-foot a hushing gesture. Yes, this is ironic isn't it.

"Awh! Don't give me that look, c'mooon. Ain't it just part of the decorations you usually stick around? Why the hell not? You never know what'll happen! Besides it's not like I'm gonna camp the spot out or nothin'!" No, the giant of a man totally didn't have his hopes up or something like that.

To be fair to both of them- on the one hand it looked pretty nice against the stained wood of the tavern's architecture. Same with all the other green decorations. A few steps further and the watering hole may just look like an old granny's living room at holidays.

...on the other, this setup was begging for a fight to start, given some of the clientele that showed up around the establishment.

#unionizedshopkeep #muse :: dogi #inbox :: answered ic #he's just trying to have some fun #he does NOT have the luck for it to work out for him

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yomawiththeboma · 9 months ago

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Wish You Were Never Mine

◈ NAMJOON X FEMALE READER

◈ SOULMATES AU

◈ CHAPTER 2: "Her?!" (1.5k words)

◈ Find the story's masterlist HERE

“Shin! Shin! Shin! Shin!” The loud voices cheered what seemed like a last name in the dark alley, and with each step they took forward the cheers got louder and louder. Hungry for blood, hungry for broken bones and bleeding noses.

Three of the group were too excited looking around and cheering with loud noise while the other three weren’t interested in the loud cheers and horrible scenes.

There was a big crowd in the middle of an alley. The people there stood in a circle, cheering and some betting money. The moans and loud groans grabbed the attention of the uninterested.

It was obviously a shock when they saw a girl fighting. She was in a black and red sports bra, baggy black sweatpants barely holding to her waist with a vivid violet chest tattoo decorating her sweaty skin.

Ironically, she was barefooted and her hair was just like boys, too short to even be put in a ponytail. Her bangs sticking to her forehead. Sweat dripped profusely as she moved swiftly around her opponent.

A tight punch met the opponent’s face making him fall on the ground. The whistle was heard and the cheers and yells were flying and echoing in the streets including Jungkook’s, Jimin’s and surprisingly Yoongi’s!

For some reason the victorious proud smile on that girl’s face made Namjoon feel a kind of connection with the mysterious woman. There was an odd urge to go and talk to her or to just stare at her for hours.

But there was something that didn’t feel right.. he didn’t feel okay, he felt like he was shot, wrung out like a used rag and thrown away to be hit by a car. His body hurt. His head was spinning and he tasted iron on his tongue.

“Taehyung-ah! Did you send Minjin home?” the lady asked worriedly, making Hoseok stare at them.

“Yes, she was really upset earlier. Don’t worry though, I treated her. Just say sorry tomorrow.” Taehyung answered, patting her back, “Well, let’s talk about it later and collect the money for now!” he jumped up and down showing his excitement.

He walked around with a box taking money from all people for watching the show, and extra money from whoever lost the bet.

“Excuse me, Sir.” Namjoon stopped Taehyung for a moment as he stared at his eyes noticing how beautiful these chocolate eyes are. “May you please tell me who is she?” he asked as curiosity was killing him.

“Why would you come here if you don’t know who Shin Y/N is?!” he snorted, leaving the poor man in a daze.

“I will tell you about her later, hyung. Let’s take a step forward now.” Jimin said taking Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s hands.

“Why?” Hoseok frowned, he wasn’t really in the mood to stand beside loud people cheering for some clowns beating each other.

“Jungkook is next.” Jimin answered back gaining yells from them.

“Is he out of his mind?! This is dangerous! She can kill him!!” Jin shouted at the poor Jimin before gaining a smack from Yoongi.

“You are too loud hyung.” the short male huffed before moving forward, “He likes being in dangerous situations and you know that quite well.” they finally stopped seeing the youngest shirtless displaying his tattoo sleeve. He had tied his hair into a loose ponytail as Taehyung stood in the middle talking to Y/N who was wiping up the blood that dripped down her face and nose.

This didn’t make any of the elders at ease except for Yoongi who didn’t seem like he was impressed or even worried as he saw it coming.

After a few moments from people deciding and taking sides, silence filled the place as Taehyung took out his whistle and blew in it yelling ‘Start’ with enthusiasm.

Y/N took the first step throwing a punch near Jungkook’s face but he dodged it with ease. He took a step forward faking a right punch as he threw a low left punch on her stomach as people cheered seeing that Jeon got the first punch. After a few punches here and there, the lady kicked Kook’s diaphragm causing his lungs to kinda spasm making it hard for him to breathe.

Seokjin didn’t feel right about that, seeing the maknae bleeding and huffing trying to catch his breathe. It made him feel that something will go wrong sooner or later.

“Your moves have got better, but you need to work on them a little bit more.” she said spitting saliva mixed with some blood but the muscled man didn’t give her a moment to regain her focus to quickly smack her jaw with his fist making her lose her balance. He immediately kicked the back of her knee letting her fall on the harsh ground.

“Look at yourself! How sad— AGHH!!” his stomach and chin hit the rocks underneath him. He heard his jaw tick loudly before his face was kissing the ground under him. He groaned loudly, eyes shut tightly as he felt the female’s weight on him.

“One! Two! Three! Shin wins.” Taehyung announces holding could barely could stand, nose bleeding and cheek red. She smiled showing her blood covered teeth. As the younger man made no attempt to move.

He crouched down after a few minutes concerned that the male might be dead. “Yah! Are you okay?” he asked, getting an annoyed ‘yes’.

Looking at their maknae, Jin was the first to run to Jungkook, picking him in his arms. “What were you thinking, you reckless boy?!” He picked him up in his embrace as he walked to the side where the rest of their friends stood. Yoongi had a wide gummy smile on his face as he looked at the youngest holding his side in pain. “You fucking lost. I can’t imagine it Koo.” he teased, giving him water.

“Come on guys in the van you go. We have a fighter in the van and we need him healthy and eating chicken breasts.” Jimin said pushing Jungkook and Jin in the van.

Hoseok looked at Namjoon who was still standing where they were watching the fight. “Do you think he is her soulmate?” he asked, following the girl with his eyes who wiped her face with a blood stained towel, “I saw that guy earlier with a younger girl in the Cafe, maybe she was their daughter or something.” Hoseok placed his theory in hope that it was right, but he got a shook of disapproval from his friend.

“No, he can’t be.” he shook his head. Concerned as he looked at the girl groaning before he felt the pain in his head.

“Why are you that sure?” he asked, looking at the man scrunching his nose.

“Because she is my soulmate.” Hoseok’s eyes widened as he looked at the girl then at his friend.

“Her?! She is the one?! She is a crazy psycho! How is she even your match? This can’t be real!” he loudly expressed his feelings. Shaking his head in disbelief. “I will leave. If anything happens to you, call me.” Namjoon nodded, giving him a small smile.

After he took a few deep breaths he walked to the female who was wiping her face and pulling a shirt on. It was the last round and he was as tired as her. “Hi! That was amazing there but-” she turned around feeling her tattoo pulse. She looked at her wrist before glancing at his seeing it change to gold matching hers.

“Namjoon?” she whispered to herself.

Looking at his eyes she swiftly turned around marching to Taehyung whispering to him before running away. “Yah!” he yelled going after her. “Why are you running?!” he yelled grabbing her wrist.

She turned around looking at him breathe heavily matching her heavy breaths. “Leave me alone!” she yelled snatching her wrist from his grip.

“It’s been eight years. I have been searching for you. Please, talk to me.” he pleaded looking at her.

She frowned shaking her head. “I am sorry. I- I need to go.” she shook her head leaving the alley.

Getting in the studio apartment she threw her keys on the side table. She walked to the old freezer getting an ice pack out and supporting her head and cheeks. She sat on the couch feeling her headache worsen.

She felt tears roll down her eyes and soon she was sobbing like a kid. Hearing the pained sobs Minjin woke up looking at her sister from across the room.

“Y/Nie? You found him?” she asked and the sobs only got louder. The little girl’s eyes softened as she walked to her sister hugging her. “Y/N, Y/Nie please.” she pleaded, feeling tears sting her own eyes.

Getting the girl in her arms she hugged her tightly kissing her cheeks before getting up. “It’s fine baby. It’s okay.” she assured her sister as she went to the bathroom to change and clean up.

It was going to be complicated.

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#bts #bts fanfic #bts ff #bts fic #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #jin x reader #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #wish you were never mine update #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader

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makomafu · 11 months ago

Note

Everyone thinks will is Trans but let's be honest here; Frankie I'd trand while will's genderfluid. I don't make the rules

OIGHHGE you just reminded me to post my Queer HCs i fucking forgor

Creeps HCs (Queer edition oooo)

Laughing Jack

I honestly can see him being aroace and non binary. The idea of gender is one that isn't like deeply pushed upon his kind, he's a children's toy and that's what he sees himself as. Boy? Sure, Isaac's a boy, he can call himself that too

Girl? Why not

he sees himself as a toy, a children's toy. Made for entertainment, and friendship.

William Grossman

The reason i see him as a trans guy is cause 1) i am trans myself, 2) i can see him wearing clothes like Jessie Pinkman from Breaking Bad or Marshall Lee, he got the top surgery and his scars look pretty sick 🔥

TbH this headcanons is also heavily tied with Isaac because i like making SO many connections between those two. He's very proud of his gender and how he looks like, and he loves how he has Jack to make him company! Jack helps him get shots lol

Oh and he's also a bisexual disaster but doesn't get many bitches

Isaac: get a girlfriend Will!

Laughing Jack: or a boyfriend, he's bi!

Isaac: Damn nobody want u fr 😭

Laughing Jack: That's what i'm saying like 😭😭😭

Will: ;-;

Frankie The Undead

Ok it first started as a silly headcanon inspired by other people's but now i can actually see it

I see this man as a trans man, and a gay man. This man has been kissing dudes since the 40s. He used to have this lover back in the 40s he always wrote letters to, they've all been burned but he sometimes remembers those times. (Also this is the willfrank shipper in me talking but his past lover looked awfully similar to William)

He's also trans because i love transmasc characters that are old i love it. He doesn't bind because he doesn't feel like it, being fat also helps lmao. He loves his body, he just fucking hates the stitches <33

Isaac Grossman

I can't decide if this guy is aro, gay, or bisexual, he's too queer for me. YES, the guy people see as queerphobic is ironically the most queer in my eyes. Imagine the repression he went through from his teenage years to adulthood, the loneliness. He only had one person that could understand him, and it was Jack. With time he forgot he was ever accepted, as he forgot Jack.

He never found any "true love", but there was a man that sticked with him even after death.

Also, yeah, i think the biggest change i gave to his original story is that he's AFAB. How does Will exist? Well, only children weren't exactly common for poor families in the 1800s England. The isolation he felt most of his life, the constant struggle of thinking, knowing, that out of everyone around you, you're alone on this one.

Jack, again, was the only place he could've feel safe, if they just didn't kill that cat. What could've been.

This man is TRAUMATIZED and my angsty teen ass is the culprit

#★. postz #isaac lee grossman #isaac grossman #william grossman #will grossman #frankie the undead #frankie creeps #laughing jack #creeps comic #lgbt headcanons

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devilsupdates · 10 months ago

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3rd period 🚨

To start the the third period

Hischier-Bratt-Meier

Toffoli-Hughes-Mercer

Palat-Lazar-Haula

Meier is like a steam roller in this game!!!

Dawson Mercer hits the iron with a backhand shot on a breakaway.

Kevin Bahl just tied up Nick Suzuki's stick at the last second to break up a very good scoring chance for the Montreal captain.

*Update on Bastian: Devils place Nathan Bastian on injured reserve. Recall Brian Halonen.*

Quite the collision into Daws.

He seems to be okay, however.

and here comes a power play.

Suzuki going to the box.

Devils going to the man-advantage in a tied game with 7:59 to play.

Nico, right off the draw with a good chance on the power play. Toffoli tried to clean up the rebound but there were too many bodies.

POWER PLAY GOAL BY THE CAPTAIN!!!!!

Nico Hischier used all of his stength and might to get that one through.

Devils have a power play goal and a 3-2 lead on Montreal with 6:27 to play.

If the Devils can keep the Habs from scoring we got the game!

JEsper Bratt makes it 4-2!!

Fuck!! Habs get one back.

4-3 Devils

#jack hughes #new jersey devils #nico hischier #hockey imagine #luke hughes #hockey #timo meier #john marino

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winstonhenderson · 5 months ago

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𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓.

𝓖𝓸 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝔀

𝙎𝘼𝘾𝙍𝙄𝙁𝘼𝙈𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎

David Bowie’s Notebook

“Fame” was released. It was a busy day. We had to do some check ups for the records and sort out management. Yes, we. John decided to jump in and help me. How does he make decisions? He was waiting for me in the studio.

“Hullo.”, he plainly stated, “Want to listen to the freshest record?”

He smiled and I chuckled.

“Yeah. That would be great!”, I sat down in thought.

The song played and we carefully listened. Even though John usually looked very stoic, then he was cringing everytime he heard himself.

“I told them to iron out my voice…”, he huffed.

“I like it.”, I shrugged, “Why change something that works?”

He laughed.

“You are right.” “Let’s move onto the paperwork.”, I sighed, “This is going to suck.”

“Now, now, David. Everything is going to be fine, I’m here to keep ya company remember?”, he took one pile of papers and began sorting, “Maybe it would’ve been easier to sort this if I brought May along, though… I don’t really want to misuse her services anymore.”

I took a pile of papers and began sorting it. We sorted in silence, until I heard John.

“David, I admire your bravery.”

I was shocked.

“I could never make so many different creative personalities and then perform as them on stage.”

I stopped sorting.

“John, you are the brave one here! Your every other song is problematic and makes people rethink their actions.”

He continued sorting, stopping after a few moments.

“How do you do it?”, he looked at me.

“Hm?”

“How do you face public performances?”, he shyly brushes his hands, but quickly corrects himself and stands confidently. I was shocked.

“Why would you of all people ask me that? You are great at that! People loved your jokes in the Beatles.”

“Right, in the Beatles. And when I’m with Yoko. Can you see where the problem is? I meant alone. You do it completely alone.”, he casually explained.

“John…”, why was he so afraid and vulnerable?

“Okay, if you want a taste of my way of performing, I can guide you through the process.”, I offered. He lit up.

“Lead the way, Mr. Stardust.”, I could hear how excited he was.

“The personas I create are to ease my fear of public performances. Nobody knows me that way. They are usually tied to my emotional wellbeing and my hobby of the day.”, I explained.

“Oh, so they are you but exaggerated.”, John smiled.

“That sounds about right.”, I chuckled, “Well, what do you feel the most, John?”

John flinched, he doesn’t share his problems that much, and when he shares them it’s usually in the form of jokes.

“I’m usually trying to be happy.”, John obviously lied.

To compensate for that I said: “Go with the opposite.”

He lifted an eyebrow and wrote down “depression”.

“Hobby of the day?”, I asked.

“Hm… What would I like to do?”, he spun around in the office chair, “I would love to write something. Maybe… Poetry, did that. Story, did that. Hm, maybe a play!”

“That’s interesting.”, my eyes widened.

“No, no, why would I write a play when I could direct one. Put on a show! That’s a great idea, a director. A play or film director.”, he got engaged.

I got us some pens, and we laid down on the cold floor. We exchanged some ideas, he was building a narrative, while I guided him and gave him some heads up. Just like when I was learning to manage myself. He was always on hand to explain and give tips which I wholeheartedly stick to.

“So, depressed director… The budget is never enough, nor the time. A perfectionist to the core. Does everything to keep the project going.”, he frantically wrote down.

“Why would they want to keep it going?”, I asked.

“Because they, hm, value themselves through their work. Their private life is not fun. It’s a routine of daily chores and the same people that repeat over and over.”, he added.

“Same people?”, I continued.

“Low expectations for people, low standards, they can see right through their facade. Each person has their own story? Maybe they can say that.”, he became playful.

“Are you staying with they?”, I asked him.

“Huh, I didn’t even notice we were calling the character they. Let me think about it…”, he stared into a point in the studio. He abruptly stopped and looked at me.

“What do ya say, pal? Should I stick with it? Or should I go with high heels or disgusting sandals?”

Now I’ve joined the staring squad, staring deep into his eyes trying to read his sorrows. His eyes were smiling on the outside, but under the surface they looked like they were tired of everyone and everything. Tired of looking after people. Yet, something in him put up with all the problems he had to face. Something that wanted him to persevere and wanted him to be the perfect ideal all of us made him out to be. Something that controlled him like a puppet and to which he has no control over. I was reminded of Yoko, because of the controlling part, but she was never that authoritative. Maybe I should give him a chance to be authoritative in a more professional setting. He was always up to challenges and it would be a good way for him to let out his frustrations. It’s an exercise after all.

“You should go with…”

“High heels.”, both of us said at the same time.

“Glad to know you agree.”, he joked. What?

“David, you were staring for so long I didn’t know if you’d say anything so I thought “fuck it, let’s play dressup”.”, he patted me on the shoulder.

I chuckled.

“Alright, John. Now, use all of this information and take one of your songs that would suit her and sing it to me.”, I explained.

“That would suit her…”, he thought out loud.

He wrote down a list of his songs, then played around with his pencil, scribbling around.

“I don’t think my solo career suits her.”, he erased all of the songs, “But I have an idea. I’ll do something I was afraid of singing for a while, and that was never done live in the first place. Though here is no audience but alright, you’ll do.”

He became nervous.

“Are you okay?”, I asked him.

“I am fine. I’m not really looking the part so I don’t think I can sing yet.”, he chuckled.

I decided to let him go all in then.

“We should get you an interesting costume. You already dress strikingly, so we’ll go with the opposite.”

“You are correct. She just wants to work on her project- and I made up my mind- she should be a play director. The world's a stage.”

John was really getting into the process and I was so happy he felt that way, even though we weren’t serious. I looked up to him for so long, so for him to look up to me for something was so exciting!

“Style me. You are the master after all.”, he said.

“Alright.”, I joked, “We’ll not do much.”

I untied his hair, it fell too flat. I roughed it up, and it became a bit more curly and it fell naturally.

“I think I won’t use my glasses. It’s a John thing.”, he put away his glasses.

“I forgot to mention you should alienate yourself. But I think you’ve figured that one out yourself.”, I was impressed.

He turned and looked at me, swooshing his hair. It was weird looking at him without his recognizable glasses. His eyes seemed bigger and his nose smaller. That was a good decision on his part.

“I haven’t seen you with long hair and no glasses. You look so much softer.”, I admitted.

“I had long hair in the Beatles during the early years.”, he argued.

“It was tied back.”, I was doing his eyebrows and noticed I was scraping some gunk away. Was it some kind of makeup or something… No, no, I’m overthinking things. He became quiet. He had a small stubble that could easily be covered. I thought it would poke out a bit, but no, it blended in perfectly. It was quite soft… I thought he could just take off some stuff and he would have a character.

“What makeup do you want?”

“Oooh, I know. I want to be like Twiggy herself. I like that bird a lot. I remember, when we were still teds, the band used to wank off to her. It was like a competition-”

I was laughing out loud.

“I don’t want to listen to your wet dreams, Lennon.”, I was on the brink of choking.

“If you say so, though, it is quite spicy. Maybe even inspiring.”, he winked. “Take off everything that is too extravagant off yourself. So as to not ruin your precious makeup.”, I joked.

“Fine, David.”, he took off his scarf, his jacket, his belt, his pins and his watch. Leaving him in his shirt, jeans and worn out trainers. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and left one pin on. “I love Paul”. I always wondered why he liked that pin so much.

I added blue eyeshadow and did the eyeliner like Twiggy did. I put some blush on his cheeks. I gave him lipstick.

“It’s the last step.”, I chuckled.

He smiled and put on lipstick.

“Are you now comfortable?”, I asked.

He was quite nervous. Maybe he was nervous as himself, but now his nervousness was more evident with those accented doll-like eyes.

“He, he, of course.”, he said.

“Then it’s time for the last step in my process. Just sing.”

He went to the table and took his guitar. He tuned it meticulously, he never tuned it that much trying to get the right note. He stood up, and began playing. It was “Happiness Is A Warm Gun”. But he changed the lyrics…

I’m not a girl who misses much

Do do do do do do, oh yeah

His voice was the same though it began to gain a much more sad and slow tone.

I’m well-acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand

Like a lizard on a window pane

My man in the band with the multicolored mirrors

On his hobnail boots

Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy

Working overtime

A soap impression of his wife which he ate

And donated to the National Trust

His voice didn’t go deep on this next part. It remained as high as when he sang the first.

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

Down to the pits that I left uptown

I need a fix 'cause I'm going down

He got more theatrical. It’s like he felt the lyrics hit him for the first time.

Mother Superior jumped the gun

The unexpected falsetto here scared me. He felt like doing everything different. He continued repeating it that way, each time feeling more and more like a call for help.

He put on a smile. His voice gained a more elegant and cute tone. It was like when I embraced my character. Singing even the smallest parts. Though I helped him with that.

Happiness is a warm gun (bang, bang, shoot, shoot)

Happiness is a warm gun, momma (bang, bang, shoot, shoot)

He took his glasses and didn’t play this part.

When I hold you in my arms (ooh, oh, yeah)

He caressed the glasses.

And I feel my finger on your trigger (ooh, oh, yeah)

He began to put them on, but decided to put them in his pocket.

I know nobody can do me no harm (ooh, oh, yeah)

Because

He went back on the guitar.

Happiness is a warm gun, yes it is (bang, bang, shoot, shoot)

Happiness is a warm, yes it is, gun (happiness, bang, bang, shoot, shoot)

Well, don't you know that happiness is a warm gun momma?

He didn’t wait for me to clap, dropping the guitar. I was astonished. It was so different from how he used to do it that if anyone said it was a different person I’d believe them. I don’t know if John would be comfortable for me in costume to call him she.

“Bowie.”, he continued in his higher pitched voice, “Was I any good?”

“You were great and different.”, I said, “Different in a good way. You played your, or um, John’s song in a completely new way…”

“Hahaha, David, tis fine. I know I did, plus it’s in character for me.”, he chuckled wistfully and caringly. Yet that wistful smile got lost as fast as it came on.

“You know, David… I wonder how it would’ve played out…”, he spread himself out on the floor. He patted the floor to say I can sit beside him, so I did. The doll-like eyes gazed into the abyss that was the ceiling.

“If I played in front of many people. Me. A small unimportant artist, a small unimportant woman against a whole bunch of gits. They would’ve torn through me…”, I concluded he was comfortable.

She rustled her sleeves…

“Exactly why John can do it. He has… The energy needed to survive the crowd. I don’t.”, she sighed.

“But then why would he ask me for advice?”, I asked. Why would John say this? Or John’s counterpart? Or this role he is playing?

She ignored the question.

“He won’t be playing for a while.”, she shrugged.

“He won’t be, what!”, I was saddened.

“He won’t. It’s because of Sean and a bunch of disappointing turnouts. He is burnt out.”, she explained.

There was something she wanted to tell me, but couldn’t. She graciously stood up.

“You know, I like this role.”, she twirled around, “I…”

“I really hate I’m going to tell you this.”, she exhaled.

“What?”

“John’s songs are very touchy and private. Every song. Him saying they’re not us upright lying!”, she jumbled her words.

John lost himself.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She played with her hair.

“Do you… Feel any better?”

“Feel, hum, I feel fine.”, she giggled, “She’s in love with me and I feel fine.”

“Why “Happiness Is A Warm Gun”?”, I was quite interested in the choice.

“It’s my everyday.”, she said looking at me, “I feel like I’m overworked, yet I do nothing. I grab my guitar and sing and write nothing. Of course, compositions for the plays. Everything is meaningless without an audience. One person is enough for an audience. Though it doesn’t have to mean that if they don’t give you any useful feedback.”

Her smile differed from John’s usual one. This one was full of hope and amazement.

“My meticulous planning and execution make the difference. My “gun” are the tools and ideas I incorporate in my life that make my art great and me satisfied. Yet there are always ideas that have to be benched for some time.”

I was confused. She noticed and booped my nose. This character by her composed stature, melancholic stare and patient smile didn’t remind me of Lennon in the slightest, except her ideal chasing nature. John was direct in his songs, but when I talk to him I see a lot of excuses and sugary sentences to make me accept something. Though when something was bad, he would tell me. This woman was straight to the point.

“David.”, she became serious, “Don’t hesitate, any question is fine, really. Just keep me occupied, John needs a break.”

“John needs a break?”, I listened to her order.

“An actor needs a break to collect himself. A role can tire a person out.”, she described it, “They should try something new and see if they like it. Maybe a different role.”

“You existed even before today?”

She smiled and chuckled.

“Cheeky bugger. Depends on how you look at it. With these characteristics him and you gave me, no. But, at the core, for as long as John knows himself.”, she took a piece of paper.

“John fantasized about you? Or being you?”, I concluded.

Her face was ridden with uncertainty.

“Don’t know about that from his point of view, but I wanted to be like him.”, she grabbed my shoulder, “You said earlier today his songs are brave, yes?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I could never do that. Go out there with my stuff and be seen with it. Be a target. Exactly why you need actors, because the director is a figure in the darkness. Maybe John’s question about your process could be better worded as this: how do you manage to be an actor and director at the same time? Johnny and I would love to know the answer, so please pray tell.”, she asked me.

“You went through it with me. You should be able to conclude now.”, I wanted her to think.

“No. Then it’s exactly the same as for us two.”, she said, “You, David are the director, while your personas are the actors. You perform as them, or they perform for you, and… Wait. You always credit yourself in the end, even though you let them perform instead of you…”

“Yeah. It’s my creation afterall.”, I affirmed.

She hugged me all of a sudden. The first hug I got from John.

“You’re so lucky, David.”, she squeezed me, “I wish I met you earlier. In good old Liverpool. You would’ve appreciated me from the beginning… Like…”

She sniffled, “I want to see her again… I hope she found someone else. She had to have found someone else.”

“Who?”

My question was downright ignored again.

“I told him to leave her, for her health. We both loved her. And the child… He was in the middle of everything. John hurt him too. What an awful person. What an awful actor. No, I am an awful director.”

This is going downhill really fast.

“Lennon, are you okay?”, I asked her. Her face was buried into my shirt.

“Bowie, I’m so thankful.”

“This is helping?”, I asked.

“This is helpful, yes.”, she said, “John needs to visit Julian at all costs. The lads were right about us… Oh, Paul…”

I realized everything. John views his emotions as feminine. He was repressing this for so long. And is still repressing them by putting them in a different persona.

“I couldn’t have guessed that John has been feeling this way.”, I sighed and hugged her back.

“John is not writing and performing for a while and that is the end. He needs to let off steam. He is tired of playing the cunning and smart Britishman. He is neither cunning nor smart in person. He is just a normal Liverpudlian with a nasally high voice that he absolutely despises and high standards, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Everything will be alright. John is like a mentor to me.”, I reddened because of embarrassment, “I believe he’ll figure things out.”

“First person to say he is a mentor to them, I always viewed him as a playful guy who acted like a child. A smart child.”, she was proud.

“If I call you John, would I be wrong?”

“Yeah, because I passionately deny it in front of an audience. My crew gets the other answer.”

“John, why would you go through this? It was simpler to tell me as yourself. You don’t need a spectacle to tell me the truth.”

“He needs to rest. He wouldn’t tell you the truth, he is imagined that way. A brick wall.”

“You are still talking about yourself in the third person and you told me all this.”

“Force of habit. My little beloved actor side…”, she wiped her tear smearing part of the makeup… I don’t remember applying that much.

“Why does he even need to let off steam? Isn’t he ideal? He should be able to withstand whatever I throw at him, not let me take over. Life really knows how to set me up. I should be able to get through this.”, she pouted.

“John isn’t perfect.”, I told her.

“John is perfect by his function.”, she proudly stated.

I got sad. John just admitted to me he was fake. He was fake with me. What did he mean everytime we played, what did he think of me?

“Wait, wait, no, no! David… ”, her view fluttered towards my eyes, like an older sister watching her upset younger brother, “You took it the wrong way, no, I explained it wrong.”

She smeared the makeup, finally breaking the boundaries for John.

“Bowie, I’m so sorry… I got too into character.”

“She is you, of course you got into character, when it’s your feelings Lennon.”

“David…”, he struggled to get anything out.

“You really can’t tell the truth huh?”, I was astonished with the amount of anxiety and pain he must’ve been feeling, “John, I still respect you and I think you respect me too by sharing all this. But this kind of behavior is damaging for you, so tell me directly what is bothering you? I’ve heard what she thinks. I need to hear it from you.”

He was quiet, pondering my question, staring into my eyes.

“What’s bothering me is that I’m trapped in a loveless marriage with a child that I am not sure is mine, and even songwriting and peacemaking doesn’t satisfy me anymore. I only like working with people, because I’m sick of writing on my own. I’m sick of running after George and Paul, fuck ‘em both.”, this was unexpected.

“How long?”, I pat him on the shoulder.

“Yoko and I have been in a bad spot for some time now because of the May situation. Sean will make or break our marriage completely in private. Yoko knows me all too well, she knows how much I regret not taking care of Julian and how much I have a soft spot for kids. If I leave her, I’d look like I’m running away from the responsibility of being a parent, I’d hate that to happen again.”, what interesting phrasing.

“I’m sick of pretending that I know everything if I know nothing. That’s it. I know absolutely nothing.”, he is going from one extreme to the other. When I look back on his attitude, he always acted like he had everything under control. It was contradictory that he was prone to panic. It’s like when a play goes wrong and the director can’t correct it. Everything was preplanned, John came here with the thought of doing this. He wanted to tell me something and I think I can dig it out of him.

“What does your aunt think of it?”, could be tied to her.

“Mary? She told me she supported me whatever I do. But she is scared. Of course she is. Her nephew is in a big city in an another country.”, he said, “I should pay her a visit soon. Maybe next week.”

His face became melancholic, “She is scared for me and Julia…”

Julia. First I heard that name from John’s mouth.

“Jules is depressed all of the time, she is alone, I think she liked Paul for a long time and they used to hang out, but they never got together. She just gave up when everything “didn’t go according to plan”. No wonder us two are still in a quarrel, so I’m not paying her a visit. We are too different. I’m impulsive and rash, she would pre plan every single thing down to the minute detail.”, he sighed angrily.

“John, stop lying. You predicted my behavior. You arranged my behavior like a director to get me to give you space for your problems. You two are more similar than you think.”, I calmed him down, “You should both resolve the conflict. It’s clear you care, because you are still angry.”

“No, we are not similar, and how would you know what she is like!”, he was angry, or no, he was panicking.

“She is caring, she is funny and melancholic, slow, truthful and direct. She holds her own and likes to write using metaphors…”

“Yeah, that’s her.”, he facepalmed himself and laughed quietly, “I am really getting out of hand. I should resolve that with her.”

Is that what he wanted to tell me? To help him with resolving his conflict with his sister. That is very sad and I’m grateful he thinks we’re that close.

“Anything else?”, this was getting sadder and sadder. John Lennon was unraveling in front of me. The description that fits Julia could fit him then, broken on the floor, smiling like everything was meaningless except the moment he was sharing with me, which he planned for I guess long before we met today. He wiped off the rest of the makeup. The frail stature of the man didn’t suit the picture we all had of him for so long. His eyes remained doll-like. He had a stubble but it was missing!

“Did you apply makeup before this or what?”

“I dunno, but I do know we should finish sorting and we lost time on my confession. Let's sort this out.”

“John, explain, please, I’m so curious! I am most curious to know what you have been hiding! You cannot cut the story where you like!”

“Except I can David, I am the director.”, he joked, “And this part of the play has gone on for too long. Let’s get back to the script.”

I sighed and laughed. I’m glad I got to see his vulnerable side. I could've been overthinking things. We sorted through the documents and parted ways.

“Thank you once more, David. It helped me so much.”, he said sincerely smiling, “I will visit aunt Mimi during next week, I missed Liverpool.”

“I’m happy I got to share this moment with you. Please consider what I said. Don’t let my words be for nothing…”

I went home and began thinking about visiting Liverpool. I’ve never been there and inspiration could be anywhere. This week, I went there. It was very nice and quiet. I headed to Strawberry Fields, since it was John’s most inspiring spot. In here I found some Beatlemaniacs, but the fuss they were making was much smaller than I expected. Other than them, there were few people on a walk… I found a spot in the grass and relaxed. John liked the place because the two of them could focus on the songs. I stared off into the sky that was framed by trees, giving me a sense of intimacy.

“Why must you always complicate things? You did the best thing you could’ve done at that moment…”, I heard a familiar voice.

“I don’t know how you look me in the eye sometimes.”, another quite familiar voice, “After everything we did to you. It’s not just him…”

I moved my head to the source of the voices and spotted two women. I recognized the first one immediately, she was Cynthia Powell, while the other one was a tall brunette with cat-eye glasses. They sat on the bench in front of me. Cynthia sat ladylike, while her friend spread herself out, making Cynthia chuckle.

“I missed you a lot. I’m glad you took precautions and only visited Julian, but you could’ve used more chances to check on how I was doing y’know? We’re still best of friends.”

“Cyn…”, the brunette hugged her, “You always understood me. Yet I always misused that.”

Cynthia lifted an eyebrow.

“Julia, you and your theatrics. Stop repeating yourself and relax…”, she patted her younger friend on the head.

Julia and John have a history with Cynthia.

“Everything is quite simple. It’s just your poetic head that makes everything complicated. Just like your songs.”, Cynthia said.

“They’re good.”, Julia stated, “I’m done with them.”

“You are done with them? But why?”, Cynthia asked her.

“Enjoy the view, Ms. Prim, and don’t think about it.”, Julia joked.

By John’s description, Julia writes too. Could Julia have been writing John’s songs all along, or no. That would be stupid. John and I wrote “Fame” together over improvised live sessions.

“You know you could tell me anything, Lennon.”, Cynthia looked at her with a sense of longing.

Julia stared at her the same way John stared at me after I asked him.

“I think that my little actor has passed his boundaries.”, Julia explained, “Even though Yoko keeps him in check, you could include May as well. He needs a break.”

She was using the same terminology as John, making me question are John and her even in a fight.

“I…”, Cynthia glanced at her friend in tears, “But songwriting has become the only thing you love. After Paul left you…”

“After I left him. He just rejected me. I don’t need his sorrows and explanations. I still love him… John still loves him. I don’t understand why he was so against everything!”, Julia was angry, “And I love Aunt Mimi, Julian and my friends, including you. You said it yourself, I did the best thing. And sometimes it meant John leaving you. He needed to go. The selfish prick with no boundaries.”

My question was answered.

“Could you do me a favour? Just one.”, Cynthia asked with a sense of playfulness.

“What?”, Julia looked at her with her doll-like eyes. Her eyes shifted to the behind of the bench.

A small sign passed behind the bench. It was exactly like a sign I noticed on a picture of Cynthia and John. Julia blushed a bright pink.

“Ah, Cynthia Powell, whatever shall I do with your lovesick head?”, Julia joked.

“Well, Julia Victoria Lennon, whatever shall you do? Ms. “I forgot my best friend” and Ms. “I love Paul”.”

“I told the pricks multiple times that it's as it says… Augh, that’s not important. And this one is for Ms. Prim and Proper.”, I couldn’t believe it but Julia planted a kiss on Cynthia’s lips. A kiss of friendship and lost passion. A parting one. Or a kiss they haven’t shared for so long. Were they together before John and Cynthia or what is their story?

“I listened to your new song. I liked it.”

“Oh, yeah, y’know, the kid I worked with is great. Were it not for him, I wouldn’t have visited Aunt Mimi and you.”

Wait.

“He reminds me of you, so artistic and introverted. Proper when he is himself but his personas are full of life.”, she booped Cynthia on her nose.

This can't be.

“You have adopted another rock star. Oh, Julia.”, Cynthia chuckled.

“Don’t remind me of Geo, he fucking gets on my nerves. He can’t stand Yoko. How are the two of us supposed to hang out if he keeps being such a drag?”

“You can’t go anywhere without dragging her with you, am I really getting replaced as a best friend too?”

“Cyn, you cheeky woman.”, Jules chuckled, “She needs to keep me in check, I can’t trust meself. Though I didn’t bring her to practice with Bowie that day… Hm.”

“Oh, oh, John is queer. I could have expected this, no, who am I kidding. No.”, were the words I thought while freaking out.

The two women chatted some more while my jaw dropped. Julia told Cynthia John’s problems like they were nothing, just a story she thought up over a cup of tea. Cynthia listened to her, gave her advice. They were close, and I understand why - they were together for ten years.

“Cyn, want to go to my place? It was nice to visit Strawberry Fields. See, this tree behind us is where Paul and I wrote most of our hits.”, she pointed in my direction but didn’t see me.

“Yeah, we could, I want to say hi to your aunt.”, she chuckled, “Proudest aunt in Liverpool.”

“Second to Paul’s scumbag father.”, Julia scoffed.

“Don’t fret over that, Jules.”, she kissed her on the cheek.

Julia took Cynthia by the hand and led her home.

“It’s you and I, Ms. Prim.”, Julia chuckled.

Leaving me imagining what part of the illusion was real; Julia or John? Only thing I knew for sure was they respected me and I respected them and their choice, making me feel less alone and alien in this weird world.

Rest of Sacrifame

#classic rock #john lennon #paul mccartney #the beatles #beatles fanfiction #george harrison #ringo starr #yoko ono #cynthia lennon #david bowie #70s #mclennon #john and cyn #john and paul #john and yoko

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lovethewayyoudoso · 9 months ago

Text

Realizing

Romance Blurb (but aren't they all?)

~ 1800 words (3 pages)

Dark hands snaked up the perfectly ironed front of Toshiya's white shirt. He had on his grey suit and polished black shoes and looked ready to head to work. Hair styled a bit to the side, combed over and over until his middling-length bangs were just right. Clean shaven, unlike the night before, and just the smallest application of aftershave for a fresh scent.

Those fingers worked their way up his dark blue tie as the pair joined in a goodbye kiss. The hem of Rosaires purple pajamas stuck out beneath the oversized red robe that was wrapped around his body. The garment barely hung on, the belt tied neatly, and the front panels overlapping significantly. Wide, heavy collar hung back off his neck like a cowl in which his loose black-brown braids pooled.

The deeper voice hummed as they broke apart and he sought out one more small kiss. Eyelids heavy with affection, he took the moment to savor his lovers face before it was time to inevitably head out the door. He was running a little late to begin with, which was completely unlike Toshiya, so Louissant stood at the door, ready to provide his services and usher the man to work.

Toshiya shook his head very slightly before craning down to steal another kiss and place yet another on his forehead. Those crystalline blue eyes looked back up at him, such a stark contrast to his hickory skin. Rosaire could feel the warmth and the light rush in his cheeks that his lovers affections always afflicted him with.

The pair said their goodbyes, punctuated by another kiss and a promise to come over again tomorrow. A promise that was dripping with desire and need and a prediction of tonight's loneliness and heartache. Toshiya was such a soft man, such a tender soul, and lately Rosaire couldn't help but share in those feelings too. He stayed at the large window pane adjacent to the entry door, holding the robe closer around his body, and watched the two men chat as they paced toward the car. Well. Toshiya was chatting: his smiling cheeks turned slightly toward Louissant couldn't be more obvious while the stoic chauffeur simply listened.

It was a contagious smile, too, spreading back to Rosaire in the window. The chauffeur opened the passenger door to the bright white car, his charge taking a moment to look back to the house with a wave. Rosaire immediately replied in kind… but wasn't entirely sure how to react to the kiss that was blown his way as the other man ducked into the vehicle.

Completely involuntarily the petite man was up on his tiptoes, his slippers hanging off his heels, as he watched the car round the drive and disappear toward town.

“I would say you're falling for him, but I think you've already hit the bottom.” Fabienne leaned against the hallway corner, her uniform suit perfectly fitted over muscular crossed arms. Her expression was deviously sweet, one that Rosaire had seen on his darling friend so, so many times.

“I enjoy his company, that's all. And we had quite the exciting evening, more than usual.”

“Uh huh. And what was that little peek out the window just now?”

Rosaire tried to stick his nose in the air and bolster his overflowing pride but, for once, he faltered. Still holding the robe around his body he shuffled past Fabienne toward the breakfast nook. She followed with a smirk, this time a little sweeter, as she rattled off a few messages for the day from his business calendar, voicemails, and the like. She was a dutiful assistant, after all, and the friendly harassment would continue before long.

A second coffee was prepared for him and a fresh selection of pastries was on display on the table. One was already missing and of course it was the same cinnamon and apple turnover that Toshiya always seemed to select. (He had taken the time to teach Rosaire that it was actually called ApfelTascha and happened to be his favorite thing while he lived in München. And, yes, German coming out of a Japanese man's voice while he was speaking English was absolutely hilarious upon reflection.) Afterall, Rosaire made sure that particular selection was always available … and it was always eaten when his lover stayed the night.

His lover.

A nibble at his own selection and Rosaire looked out the broad windows around the room. The garden was still young though the mature trees he had brought in were still full and perfectly green, so late into the year. It wouldn't be long before they began to turn, of course.

Blue eyes were snapped back to attention when Fabienne set his work tablet down: the device freshly charged and his email and stock ticker brought up at the ready. It was their same routine every single day, after all. He looked at the screen for a moment before taking a small bite of his pastry and looking up to where his assistant stood, at the ready.

A sigh. “I don't really feel like working today.”

“Is your job that difficult?” Fabienne had to chuckle. Every career had it's struggles, and while she was sure Rosaire faced some very daunting decisions that would throw millions of yen and euro around… she knew he'd breakdown trying to accomplish many of her own tasks.

“Is yours, truly?” He smirked back at her and motioned for the large woman to take a seat with him. She was his assistant and his security, but she was still his closest friend and confidant.

“My job? No. My employer? That's a different story…” A fine china plate was slid off the small stack and a pastry selected for herself. Well, two. She had a busy day ahead!

Rosaire made a sarcastic, affirmative noise while looking over Fabienne for another moment. He went back to the window, looking past those trees and down the road, around the hill where the city limits began. He tugged the red robe closer around his body, pushed a braid or two over his ears a little more comfortably and sipped at his coffee.

“Why don't you mark me as out of office today. I think I have more important things to do than business.”

“Alright,” she chuckled as she slid the tablet back to herself and whipped out one of her mobile phones. “I'll have your secretary reschedule… this, this and… this. Doesn't look like anything important; no names highlighted and flashing red.”

“Thank you, dear.”

Silence for a few moments while Rosaire sipped and Fabienne tapped and the house remained so very quiet as always. When Toshiya visited there would be music on, even if it was just the ambient, mood-setting sort. He would be laughing and saying the cheesiest or mushiest things Rosaire had ever heard outside of silly memes on social media. It was rare that he would come over and push Rosaire straight to the bedroom; he always had to catch up or do some activity together, even if it was just dinner. Strolls in the estate's gardens, heading down to the shore to walk in the sand, dragging Rosaire to an art museum. He made the other man uncomfortable in the best way.

Going over to Toshiya's little apartment (which made him claustrophobic after a while), going out to a club or dinner… he was always the same. Attention was always exactly on Rosaire and the affections were overflowing. It wasn't an act, was it? So many men before him had either plowed through Rosaire like he was just a toy, and some days that's all he was seeking. Others who seemed to have more potential ended up being much the same, sometimes far worse in that not only would they use his body they would toy with his emotions and leech all they could from his lifestyle.

This morning Rosaire has been particularly sad to see Toshiya leave. He missed him.

This wasn't his lover; he was so much more than that. It had been a long time since Rosaire had even considered such a relationship, that he had considered that he might want something like that and be wanted, genuinely, in return. But those kisses and the way Toshiya looked at him… his loving arms that held him so tight after they had sex. Hell, even the way he went about the act itself! Thoughtful, passionate rhythms; considerate, tailored strokes; calloused fingers and palms that grabbed and held and lifted and pushed him down into his over-soft pillows while those dark eyes appraised the situation carefully, lustfully. Lovingly.

Always an embrace afterwards, even after the nastiest of romps. Always an offer of fetching a glass of water, of a towel for his sweat or other substances. A hand held in escort to the ensuite bathroom and the smaller man was always cleaned up first; if they sought to do so in the shower then those wide hands always came in to do the work for him. Absolutely, positively lovingly.

Sometimes he couldn't stay the night but always made sure Rosaire felt cared-for and complete before he left. It was like it was his job or his duty, but at the same time he was so perfectly good at it; a natural at caring. Always a text when he got home and a goodnight emoji or gif or whatever cute thing he thought to send this time. It was so incredibly over-the-top to Rosaire the first time. It was corny, but cute, and felt so juvenile. And done so incredibly lovingly.

He looked down at his personal phone for a moment and sighed lightly, not even realizing he had been lost in thought. A blue eye peered over to his left and caught Fabienne with her hands folded on the tablet and a huge, goofy smirk plastered across her dark lips.

Rosaire took a drink of his coffee to hide his embarrassment and the heat of the blush hiding under his skin. The chair's feet dragged across the stone floor as he stood and left his friend to laugh. As soon as he was out of sight, halfway up the winding stairs, his mobile phone was pulled from his robe pocket and he almost melted when there was already a message:

[ Toshiya ☀ ] : ur suppose to catch the kiss when i blow them

[ Toshiya ☀ ] : we need to practice that more mon cur

[ Me ] : Cœur.

[ Toshiya ☀ ] : oh no there are more letters to learn???

[ Me ] : Now you know I felt when I moved here.

[ Toshiya ☀ ] : mon coeur i dont no how to make that new letter

[ Me ] : I can show you how to type it when you show me how to catch your air kisses.

[ Toshiya ☀ ] : i miss u already

[ Me ] : I miss you, too. こころ。

#lovethewayyoudoso #blurb #my boys #lgbt romance #toshiya x rosaire #original characters #writing

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