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raevil · 2 years

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THE MONSTER IN THE DARK ⸻

CHARACTERS ˳ nayika deesomlert ( dee ), wooshik, jinseop & jewon ( minor characters ), mentions unknown women a couple of times

WORD COUNT ˳ 5.9k / 5,973 words

WARNINGS ˳ swearing, mentions food and vomiting. dee gets unconscious and then partly kidnapped. death, murder and blood is spoken about most in this piece. dee decapitates one of the guys, but it’s not descriptive. weapons, mostly knives and an axe. dee acts different in the second half of this piece ( more crazy ) and tortures the guys. mentions burning and burying the bodies briefly. if we missed anything, let us know!

NOTE ˳ some might recognise this piece from one of aine’s old groups, but we’ve made sure to change everything that needs to be to fit dee’s lore / plot more!

The front door rang loudly through the seemingly empty diner. A soft melody echoed in the air while the girl in question heard oil sizzling from the small kitchen in the back. Nayika noticed that the only people in the diner were a female, whom she didn’t bother to look closely at, and three high school boys dressed in fine suits. Of course, who wouldn't notice them because of all the noise they were making?

'They look like three little pigs,' Nayika thought, watching them attack each other with fries, 'only they're not so little.' She could swear one of them even let out a squeal unexpectedly.

She saw one of them aim for the tallest guy when his eyes locked on her. That was when he stopped his movements and just stared in shock. She wanted to comment on how he would swallow a fly just staring but decided otherwise. She had other things to plan than to act as childish as them.

Seeing his startled expression, the other two looked behind them and noticed Nayika ordering a single strawberry milkshake. As she moved past them, all three raked their eyes on what she was wearing. A simple, pink Edwardian-inspired prairie dress with short, puffy sleeves. It had small bow laces in the front and one knot in the middle of her back. It was tight enough so her body proportions could be shown but modest enough to wear in public. One of them even let out a small "damn," which brought a secret smirk to her face.

Nayika sat down, a table away from them, but purposely positioned herself so they could see her face perfectly as she looked out of the window and onto the dark street.

She predicted that at least one would appear next to her and sit uninvited, probably their leader. And precisely three minutes later, he did.

"Hello, I couldn't help but notice how lonely you looked there and wanted to introduce myself," he began, a dashing smile on his face that made Nayika want to vomit. "Is it alright if my friends and I join you?"

'At least he politely asked before he took a seat,' Nayika concluded, simply agreeing and letting him know it was okay. Looking back for a second to nod to his friends, he remained standing until they eagerly took the seats before relaxing in the one right across from her.

"My name is Wooshik, this is Jinseop and Jewon, but we call him Little J," he introduced the other two, pausing for them to at least wave at her before proposing another question. "And you are?"

Nayika wanted to joke with them, saying, 'You need to earn it before you know my name,' but where was the fun in that?

"I'm Nayika. It's nice to meet you all," her soft, velvety voice knocked them out of their fantasising with just that sentence.

"Well, Nayika, what is a girl as beautiful as you doing outside at night like this?" There it was, that famous question that would make every girl swoon and blush. He assumed he was so cool, but she knew better. She heard better compliments from a homeless guy two blocks away from the diner.

"I guess the same thing as you guys," she took a sip of her milkshake and wiped a little bit of what was left in the corner of her mouth, not taking her eyes off Wooshik's face. She smirked once again when she saw him gulp. While he was preoccupied with his thoughts, the other two began snickering and nudging each other as if they knew something that she didn't.

"You know," Little J decided to speak up, "I don't think we've seen you before. Are you new here?" It was only then that Nayika noticed Little J. He was a bit on the chubbier side, and his cheeks were bright red like he was running five minutes before this. He held a couple of fries in his hand, but he was not eating them for reasons Nayika didn't know. He had short, light brown (or dark blond?) hair that was brushed poorly, probably because he would go through the strands with a hand once every couple of minutes.

If Little J was chubby and short, Jinseop was everything except that. He had curly, short hair that was darker, and he seemed the tallest in the group. A beauty mark near his lips was what Nayika noticed first about him, and when he smiled, his eyes practically disappeared.

Wooshik, however, was the one that seemed to get on her nerves the most. He was handsome, she won't lie about that, but how he handled everything made it seem like he was faking it. Nayika worried that she would ruin everything if she said one wrong thing. She noted that he liked rich stuff, given that the guy adorned his fingers in rings that were as huge as they could be.

If you looked at all three of them together, they couldn't be any more different. But what she realised, though, is that all three had at least something in common (excluding the fact that they're rich); they liked to wear expensive suits.

Wanting to mess with them a little bit, she stated, "Oh, I've always been here; you just haven't looked enough," and continued to sip on her half-finished milkshake. In the corner of her eye, she saw how Jinseop and Jewon looked at each other and smiled. But it wasn't a fun smile, and it looked like it was enhanced with malice. It gave her shivers just thinking about it.

"I noticed that you're dressed fancy. Are you going somewhere? Isn't it a little bit late too?" Wooshik asked, finishing his food and wiping his hand onto a napkin.

"Not really. I just returned from the prom and decided to stop by and order a drink myself! What about you three?" What she said was true, she did go to the prom, and she did stop by for a drink. The only thing she didn't expect was to see them so soon. She heard about them, of course, as almost every girl would lovingly talk about them with hearty eyes.

Honestly, Nayika didn't see what the appeal was. They were handsome, that's true, but that was it. Unless the girls were getting off because they came from wealthy families, they were probably brats and still are.

"Believe it or not, us too! Although it seems we don't attend the same schools, I would clearly remember someone as beautiful as you at the dance!" Wooshik once again complimented her, but she did not blush. Why won't she blush as all the other ones did?

Nayika blinked at his praises, not understanding what he was doing. "Oh no, I'm not from this town; let's just say I'm... visiting," she trailed off, answering the question unsurely.

Wooshik nodded in response, noticing that she had already finished her drink. "In that case, why don't we hang out for a bit? It's not too late for you, is it?"

'Here we go...' Nayika thought, wanting to laugh in delight, but she pinched her left arm to compose herself.

"Are you sure? I don't want to burden you guys–"

"Oh, no!" Wooshik interrupted, shaking his hands indifferently, "it would be a pleasure for you to join us! You see, we have a small tradition here, and now that you're here, we can continue it."

Nayika hummed in interest, her eyes widening just a tiny bit. "And what is this... tradition you speak of?" She leaned her chin on her palm, looking from Wooshik to Jinseop and, finally, to Jewon. As soon as she looked away from Wooshik, he smirked and winked at the other two.

"Instead of explaining everything to you, why don't we just show you?" He stood up from his seat and paid for his fries and Nayika's drink, ignoring her complaints. He flinched his head towards the door and reached out his hand to Nayika, "Shall we?"

Now, Nayika has a chance to refuse and tell them to fuck off, but when will she get the next opportunity? When it's too late? She couldn't let them walk away!

"You know what?" Nayika starts, seeing the hopeful look on his face. It was almost pitiful how he begged her to agree with his eyes. "Why not? I have nothing to lose anyway." She swore she saw the other two fist bump behind Wooshik's back.

Hearing her answer, Wooshik released a huge sigh, and before Nayika could question him, he gently took her hand and pushed her to walk next to him.

Right before they got out of the diner, Nayika glanced back inside and met the eyes of the quiet woman resting there the whole time. The last thing she saw before the doors closed was her grinning at Nayika in acknowledgement.

When they got outside, the first thing that Nayika realised was that it was cold, almost freezing. Luckily Jinseop offered his blazer to her, which she appreciated. The second one was that they had to walk for a bit to get to their car, and it was considered weird to her. Why would they park their car far from the diner?

Nonetheless, she forgot about that once she saw what car was in front of them. "Is that 1978 Cadillac Eldorado I see!?" She blurted out, a childlike expression appearing on her face. Wooshik laughed in disbelief, "I didn't think you would know much about cars, no offence."

"None taken," she replied, "I may not look like it, but I love cars, especially cars like this." She lied. Nayika never liked cars, as she believed they were a nuisance, although they had some perks. She ran her fingers on the side, not taking her eyes off it for even a second. It wasn't a shock that Wooshik had a car like this. His whole family was so filthy rich that they could even buy separate cars for their dogs. Nothing about him surprised her because she already knew everything.

Wooshik nodded in agreement, "That's good to know."

He let her hop into the car first while leaving the other two to decide who would sit in the front and who would be in the back, already closing the doors at the driver's seat. "Off we go!"

While they drove down the road, Nayika would halfheartedly listen to the conversation that was going on next to her. Instead of communicating with the guys more, she would look at the moon. Nayika hated most things in this world, but the moon was something she would never get tired of.

As more time flew by, the more intrigued she became by the whereabouts of the place they were driving to. When she looked to her left to ask Jinseop (who "won" the back seat next to her) how long until they reached the destination, she found him already watching her. 'That's creepy,' she thought, an uneasy feeling pooling in her stomach. It never subdued, not even after he oh-so-charmingly smiled at her.

Five minutes later, it seemed as if they had finally arrived. Nayika looked from the small window and let out a confused hum. "Are you sure we reached the place you guys talked about?" She remained seated until Wooshik got out of the car before waiting for him to let her out.

"Don't worry, we are right where we need to be," She heard a snicker behind her, and just then, she smelled something sweet. Suddenly, Jinseop shoved a rag to her face and pressed hard. Nayika tried moving away from him, her eyes widening in shock, but Jewon held her legs together from the outside.

"It's okay, Nayika, you'll be just fine," Jinseop muttered softly, "just try to relax." After that, her eyes unwillingly closed, and she passed out in his arms.

'Look at us, so weak, so vulnerable... And to think we are one.'

"No, please don't do this!"

'What if we killed them? Wouldn't it be nice?'

"What are you doing!? Stop it!"

'Especially the ones who are too loud; they get on our nerves!'

"Please stop it; you don't have to do this!"

'Kill them! Kill them! Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!–'

A loud slap resonated, followed by a high-pitched shriek that woke Nayika up from what seemed to be a nightmare. Her stomach grumbled, but not from hunger. It seemed more sinister, and it reminded her of a wolf snarling. 'Oh no, not again!' She panicked, cracking her eyes open in alertness and glancing around her. But she saw nothing except woods nearby. Another annoying shriek made her turn her attention behind her.

"What the..." she trailed off once she noticed that her hands were tied behind her and she was positioned on a large log.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Nayika removed attention from the log that poked her back and looked at Wooshik crouching in front of her.

"Or good night since it's still dark," he muttered loud enough for her to hear.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Nayika spat out, furrowing her brows in anger and confusion.

Wooshik tilted his head in shock, "Woah! Watch the language; you don't want to lose that tongue, do you?" He raised his right hand, in which he was holding a sharp knife that was glistening in the moon. "What if I accidentally cut it?" He purred, his eyes gleaming with craziness.

Nayika scoffed, shaking her head in doubt. "You're crazy!" she spat out.

"Think whatever you want; we're still going to play a game, you and I," he smiled, "Oh! And also the others." As he stood up, Nayika found the other two hovering around another girl, also tied up. 'She must've been the one that woke me up, screaming.'

Letting out a sharp 'tsk!' Nayika questioned, "What kind of game?"

Wooshik released a fake gasp, tilting his head to the side as if he couldn't remember what to do next. He snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Hide and seek, of course!"

'What the fuck is wrong with him?' Nayika wondered, refusing to look into his eyes on purpose. Unfortunately, that only made him more annoyed. "You're crazy; you know that? You're messed up in the head; I hope you get better," she added the last bit sarcastically and then relaxed onto the log, ignoring how her body screamed at her to move.

Wooshik snarled, reminding Nayika of a rabid dog, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. A small pool of nervousness rose in her stomach, and just for a second, she was worried he would kill her right then and there. But he composed himself fast and just smirked at her.

He looked like he wanted to say more, but a loud wail came from behind him, and he sharply turned towards the other female, who flinched upon meeting his eyes. A low 'damn it' came from him as he turned around and walked towards her. Everyone was quiet, not a single person moving to stop him; they just stared as he got closer to her until he finally squatted down.

Wooshik shushed her softly, moving his palm towards the girl's cheeks and wiping the falling tears away. "It's okay," he cooed when she flinched away from him, "everything will be fine when we start. You have nothing to worry about." He turned towards the other two dumbasses and let them fiddle with the girl's ropes.

He then moved back to Nayika and did the same thing. Feeling the ropes get slightly undone, she tried to keep calm and decide what to do next. She could try and run away, but where? Trees surrounded them; she didn't know the exact way out, so that's one plan ruined. So the only other thing to do was to listen to what they say and later run off and find a way out.

Just when she expected the rope to come off completely, Wooshik tightened it once more and pulled her with him. Her left eye twitched in annoyance, and she wanted to jeer at him, almost forgetting that he had a knife in his hand.

He moved her closer to the rest and sighed in tiredness. Nayika glanced at the other girl again and nodded in reassurance when their eyes met. Her eyes said, 'It'll be okay,' but her lips were twisted into a frown. For the first time in a long time, she didn't know what to think or do, and she was concerned about it.

"Here's how it's going to be," Wooshik started, crossing his arms across his chest, still holding his knife, "we are going to give you two a headstart– let's say ten minutes?– while you go and hide. Once the ten minutes are up, we'll go after you; sounds okay?" He asked, although he did not care about their answer. "Oh, and also, before I forget," he exclaimed, rubbing his nape sheepishly, "If you get caught, that's it! It's the end game for you!" He spread his arms out as if he was showing them the woods for the first time. He looked proud of how everything went down, which pissed Nayika a lot.

"Wait," she bravely interrupted, "what do you mean the end?" Did he truly mean it?

He laughed, "Exactly what I said; you've finished the game– lost... dead!" He said the last bit in a dark tone, wanting to scare the crap out of them. He partly did– but only the other girl (whose name Nayika still didn't know) started thrashing in Jewon's hands, trying to run away.

"Hey, hey, it's okay!" Jinseop shushed her, softly patting the poor girl's head like she was some kind of an animal. Nayika felt sad for a split second, but for reasons, she didn't know. Why did she feel this way for a person she had only met? To be blunt, she even got on Nayika's nerves. The girl was too whiny, always whimpering or wincing like a small, helpless bunny. And judging by Wooshik's facial expressions, she believed he felt the same.

"You'll be okay," he once again reassured her before turning around towards the fire they lit in a barrel. Nayika wondered why there would be a barrel of such and why it gave her the chills just looking at it.

"Okay!" Wooshik exclaimed, putting the knife under his armpit and letting out two slaps, turning everyone's attention to him, "Shall we begin?"

Nayika stumbled over a tree root, a short hiss escaping her lips when her ankle rolled uncomfortably. She lost the other girl a long ago when they separated and went in different directions. It was suspicious how effortlessly Wooshik let them run towards the woods after he explained the game. It's like he was planning just that. Maybe he was. Otherwise, why would he do all of that?

She doesn't know how much time has passed, but it felt too long, longer than ten minutes. Those idiots probably started looking for her already. 'Just a little bit more,' Nayika thought, not taking a single break as she kept running in hopes of being further away from them. 'Just a couple of minutes, and then everything will be fine,' she swore she heard a deep chuckle immediately after her last thought but ignored it for now.

Somehow, her eyes caught a tiny glint in the darkness, and she noticed a small knife lodged in the tree in front of her. She wasn't sure if they left it there on purpose or if it was from someone else. Nonetheless, she ran towards it and turned around to get it with her hands. She let out a grunt as her hands kept slipping from the handle. Nayika gave it one more pull, and the knife easily slid from the tree. Her wrists burned because of the ropes, so she tried to cut through them quickly. Due to having her hands tied in a weird position behind her back, she tried to slowly cut the rope so she wouldn't hurt herself even more. It was painfully slow, and her heart quickened, fearing they would find her earlier than they were supposed to.

As soon as she was free, she tied the strings around her left leg, under her dress and around the knife she hid. 'Better to save it for later; I might need it.'

Now, when she could focus better on the environment around her, she noticed how it was too quiet. The wind was not blowing, which was surprising considering how cold the night was. 'It must be the time. I need to find the others quickly!'

Instead of continuing forwards, she spun around and returned the way she came from, following the faint shrieks echoing in the woods. "Goddamn it," she muttered, "don't tell me she's still screaming." 'How is her voice still working?' Nayika didn't know, but she was astonished that the girl kept yelling all this time. What an easy way to show others where you are.

As she got closer, the screaming got louder, and her brow ticked in annoyance. Just as she began to see the girl's ginger hair caked in mud, Nayika stumbled and fell on her left arm. Letting out a small hiss, she cradled her arm and rolled the wrist to see if she had sprained or broken it. While concentrating on that, she gave no awareness of the situation around her and how still it got. She only snapped out of it once she heard him laughing, metres away from her "hiding" place.

"Got one!" he exclaimed, his hand still holding the knife deep into the girl's abdomen. Ignoring her gurgling sounds, he cautiously glanced around before letting her fall onto the ground. "Now, where's the other one?" His walkie-talkie released a sound, and he picked it out of his pocket. A quiet voice informed Wooshik of something Nayika couldn't hear, and he turned around and left.

Waiting for a couple of moments until she was convinced he had left, Nayika kept her eyes on the dying girl. She still had the knife lodged in her as she tried to crawl away. Her dress still looked complete, but the amount of blood pooled onto it, and the ground was alarming. She wouldn't survive the night.

Nayika quickly ran towards her, her breath uneven as she tried not to let her tears fall. Her left hand was holding onto the wound, and she took the girl's face with her right, patting her cheeks to stir her up. "It's okay, honey. You'll be okay," she tried to reassure her, but with every word, the girl panicked and kept moving away. 'Oh shit,' Nayika thought, 'I just repeated his words from before.'

"Listen to me," Nayika exclaimed, her face contouring into a serious expression, "I'm going to take the knife out. You just need to be very quiet, got it?" She waited until the girl calmed down before slowly taking the knife.

"One," she muttered, "two, three!" As she pulled it out, she pressed onto the ginger's face to muffle the yowls of pain. Her heart broke just listening to her. "Alright, it's done. You're doing good, okay? I just have to find something to press onto the wound," Nayika muttered, patting the ground around her for something to use. 'You know what? Fuck it!' she thought before going for the ends of her dress. She was about to rip it off when the girl started freaking out again. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Don't worry, I took the knife out–" she was cut off when she heard a small 'clink!' behind her, and an axe flew past her head, right in the middle of the girl's chest. The blood splattered everywhere; onto the ground, behind and onto Nayika, who recoiled back in shock.

"Ah, seriously," a voice said behind them, right where Nayika was hiding previously, "I knew you were here; this is too easy now." Nayika didn't dare to turn around to look at him, wanting to keep her eyes locked on the dying girl. She refused to move away, even though her thighs burned and her brain screamed at her to run. She simply sat there emotionless, caked in blood, while maintaining eye contact with the girl in front of her. There was nothing she could do except watch as the light in the girl's eyes dimmed. 'I didn't even know her name,' she kept thinking, ignoring how Wooshik kept fussing behind her about how he knew she would be here all this time. Her sad thoughts eventually ceased, and the only thing she kept reciting to herself was the sentence, 'It's their fault.'

'It's their fault! Kill them! It's their fault! Kill them! It's their fault!'

Ultimately, Wooshik stopped congratulating himself and took a good look at Nayika's back. She was reticent and still turned away from him. He was slowly getting angry by her actions and was just about to comment on it when he heard her. She was laughing! Her shoulders trembled with laughter, with her hands still on the ground, on both sides of her body.

"You little shit!" Wooshik paled, hearing her voice. It sounded hoarse like she was screeching for a long time, but it was not her actual voice; the one he had heard before. It sounded different, almost scarily like. Her voice was deeper, as if she was speaking through a pillow, but was still loud enough for him to hear. "E-excuse me!?" he stuttered out and cursed at himself for sounding like a little bitch. It was just her; what would she do?

All of a sudden, Nayika stopped laughing, and everything seemed frozen. There was no wind, no birds or animals shuffling in the woods like they were supposed to. It's like time stopped and the only ones still moving were him and Nayika. "I said," she answered again, but slower this time, "you little shit!" She slowly stood up, blood dripping from her hands as she took her shoes off, which Wooshik noticed only then. 'She was running in heels this whole time?'

Before she turned around, a small crack came from another way, diagonally from Wooshik, and out came Jinseop and Jewon. "Looks like the whole gang's here!" she announced, standing right in the middle of them. Because she was facing the other two, they could see everything on and around her. As soon as she looked at them, they stopped in fright and stumbled back. Wooshik wanted to ask them what was so scary about her when she spoke again. "Awe, what's wrong? Why are you so afraid? Is it because of the blood? Because I can clean it away, don't worry," in one move, she lifted her right hand and licked the blood trailing down.

They all gasped simultaneously, appalled and disgusted that she would lick the blood like some vampire. "What the fuck?" Jinseop managed to mutter out, his hands shaking along with his knees.

"Oi!" Nayika exclaimed, "Watch the language! You don't want to lose that tongue now, do you?" She mocked the same way Wooshik did to her before and watched as their faces contoured into weird expressions. "Now, as far as I know," she began once again, trailing her bloody fingers on her cheek, "we still haven't finished the game, have we?" Her eyes darkened almost entirely, a sinister expression developing on her face. They watched as her lips spread into a huge smile, her teeth glimmering in the dark.

Just as they were about to say something, they halted once they glanced into her eyes. They were completely blacked out. Jewon gasped out once again and yelled out, "The devil!" Nayika paused mid-step, tilting her head in a confused manner, looking around her as if he didn't say that to her. "Who, me? Oh, Jewon! Poor, poor Little J," she spat out, emphasising his nickname as if she was mocking him. "You have not met the real devil yet!" In one quick second, she reached under her dress and took out the knife and the ropes she was hiding from before.

"Boo!"

Jinseop and Jewon whirled around and started running, all while Nayika stood there and laughed, her voice echoing behind them and in their minds. "You better run, little piggies! Run before I find you!" In one swift move, she turned around and threw the knife at Wooshik, frozen in fear. It stuck right in his right thigh, and he fell to the ground in agony. "I'll finish you later," she told him over his screaming, "you'll be the last one!"

She left him alone, knowing he wouldn't make it far enough before she was back again. She didn't care about the first two, but she would still kill them, maybe faster than Wooshik. It's him she's focusing on; the other two were not important.

Not too far away from her was Jinseop. It made her smile at how pathetic he looked, holding his ankle in pain. "Little J abandoned you, right?" He quickly stood up and flinched back from her, trying to limp away. "Get– get away from me! Get away from me, you devil!" Nayika sighed in annoyance, rolling her eyes at him. "Didn't you hear me before? I already told you that you haven't seen the real devil."

"Now, where's Little J? He left you alone?" She expected him to tell her, but Jinseop refused to say anything, deciding to try and run away again. "Okay, that's enough. I don't have time for this," she grumbled before coming closer to him. One second he was standing and staring at her in fear, and the next, his head was in her hand while the body fell to the ground. "What a drag," she sighed and threw his head down. "Now, where's the other one?"

A small branch cracked on her right, and she turned to see a pair of eyes staring in hysteria. "There you are!" she exclaimed, a huge grin appearing on her bloody face, "Were you here the whole time? Huh?" He kept his mouth shut, afraid that he'd get in trouble if he said anything.

Nayika sighed, fixing the shoulder strap that fell off her shoulder. She should've worn a dress with long sleeves instead of puffy ones. She felt like a duck for some reason, and it bothered her. "Listen, kid; I promise I'll make this quick. You're not as important to me as Wooshik. He's going to get a longer version of my rage," she said, waiting calmly until he got in front of her. But after five seconds, she rolled her eyes and flashed in front of him, grabbed him by the neck and, in one movement, cracked it. She threw his body next to Jinseop's and took both of them by the legs. Somehow, she held Jinseop's head and started pulling them back towards where she had left Wooshik.

She came back to see him crawling on the ground, but she didn't see the knife in his thigh anymore. 'He hid it behind his back.' She tsk-ed at him loudly, announcing her reappearance and watched as he peered at her with a guilty look. "It's pathetic," she started, "how pitiful you look now, but not even ten minutes ago, you were throwing an axe towards me. Oh, what should I do?" Nayika let out a fake wail, pretending she would let him live. She saw Wooshik's eyes light up in happiness for a second, thinking she was serious. That was until he looked at her face and the two bodies behind her. "Please, don't do this! I'll do anything– I'll– I'll pay you! Just tell me how much and consider it done! Please, let me live!" he ranted, not realising that the more he talked, the angrier Nayika got. Her eyes lit up with anger, and she only saw a fire in front of her. She wanted to kill him right now, to make him burn. But where's the fun in that?

"Shut your mouth, wimp! Don't you get it? You cannot save your ass by paying me. No matter what, you'll die, so why don't we get on with it?" She watched in disgust as he began to cry. "Now, now, stop crying like a bitch and look at me!" Through blurry eyesight, he caught her silhouette as she got closer to him and crouched down. When she moved her hand closer to him, he recoiled, expecting her to slap him, but only receiving a soft pat on his cheek.

"You know, I watched you. I watched through her eyes as all three of you kept luring young girls to these woods and played this sick game of hide and seek. But you don't care, do you? No, you only care about your entertainment. Well, now it's my turn to have fun!" She patted his cheeks again and took the knife from his trembling hand, twirling it between her hands.

"Now, just close your eyes, relax, and wait until I finish. But I must warn you; it will be long! We plan on having the most fun destroying you!"

For the next couple of hours, only screaming was heard from the depth of the woods, somehow not alerting anyone important.

The young girl's bloody figure emerged from the forest's darkness. Her soft, pink dress was ripped to bits, and one shoulder sleeve was gone, seemingly lost somewhere back on the path. She looked up at the moon and let the cold breeze wash over her as she closed her eyes. The night was finally peaceful. The wind was blowing again, and not a single bird was flying, nor was a person walking down the main path. Just how she liked it.

A cracking sound averted Nayika from walking away, and she turned to see who dared to make such an annoying sound. Her sharp eyes locked onto a person standing under the lamppost. They looked familiar, but she couldn't see well because of the enormous hat covering their faces. Only when they walked closer did she realise that it was the lady from the diner, the one that grinned at her. Her piercing eyes stared almost through Nayika, and she felt goosebumps on her arms. 'Must be because it's cold,' she thought, refusing to believe that such a frail woman would make her feel uneasy.

They stared at each other for a long time, and while the wind blew, they never moved from their spots. Nayika was about to comment when the unknown lady let out a deep chuckle and shook her head in wonder. "You are something else," she croaked out.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, it's the other you! I hope you took care of everything so that no one suspects you. Otherwise, I'll have a lot of work to do," she said, not phased by her bloody figure.

"Don't worry, lady, I burned their bodies," she stated, starting to walk away from her. "And the girl?" came from behind her. Nayika halted in her step and turned her head to see her figure in the corner of her eye. "I buried her body not far from here. Go and see for yourself if you're that curious." The woman hummed in satisfaction, noticing her holding something in her hand. Before she could ask her, Nayika walked away and disappeared in the dark after she passed a lamppost.

Nayika secretly turned around and watched, not from far away, as the lady looked towards the path she came out of but turned around on her heels and walked away, not once looking back.

"Interesting," she muttered, caressing a bloody necklace in her hand, "very interesting."

#aes!ocnet #⸻ ˚₊ ❝ chapter 𝖨 it's 𝗈𝗎𝗋 perfect sacrifice ❞#kpop oc #fictional oc community #fake kpop group #oc girl group #kpop au #fictional idol group #idol oc #idolverse

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deeridley · 1 year

Text

Character References

Metal Family / Inside Job AU

Dee

5ft 7in / 30 years old

curly blond hair that reaches mid-back, usually kept in a low ponytail with loose strands

a white lab coat over a grey button-down

black ripped jeans with an especially ripped knee and a chain

black lace-up boots that reach just below his knee

black spiked choker and matching bracelets

black nails, black eye makeup atop dark eye circles, pierced ears, occasionally a light beard or some stubble

Heavy

6ft 3in / 28 years old

stylistically messy russet hair that reaches the end of his shoulder blades, with a few thin braids in the underside

an old, black leather jacket

a black button-down with a copper tie

black slacks and red converse

black wrist cuffs / bracelets and a few rings on each hand, including a college ring

two piercings on each eyebrow, a bellybutton piercing, and a piercing in each earlobe, all silver

click "keep reading" for the rest of them :3

Dr Lif

5ft 7in / 31 years old

black, shiny, sleek, sometimes messy hair that reaches her lower back

a white lab coat with large pockets on the inside

dark eye makeup, a black spiked choker, black leather bracelets, beaded bracelets, and black nails

a black silk button-down shirt, halfway unbuttoned to reveal a black lacy bra

black shorts with a belt, chains, & a thigh garter/harness attached to the right thigh

black thigh highs and garters with chains

black knee-high lace-up boots

Diana

5ft 4in / 32 years old

straight pale pink hair that reaches just past her shoulders

a white suit jacket with sleeves rolled up to the elbow and a pink leopard print cami top underneath

white mini pencil skirt atop black tights

light pink platform Pumps

black winged eyeliner, mauve eyeshadow and lipstick, gold necklaces and bracelets, pink nails with a white ring finger

Lydia

5ft 8in / looks 35

curly blonde hair with blue, pink, and purple streaks, that reaches just past her shoulders – usually loose but occasionally in a ponytail or messy bun

a pale blue silk party dress with matching pale blue heels that have ribbons adorned with butterflies reaching mid-calf

crystal jewelry and a necklace with mushroom shaped beads

sparkly purple eyeshadow, white body glitter, and iridescent pale blue painted nails

Gopher

5ft 5in / early to mid 60s

brown hair shaved into a buzz cut

a red beanie with holes provided for his gopher ears

camo cargo pants

an ICP shirt hidden underneath his military uniform

white Supreme sneakers with red laces

Glam

6ft / mid 50s

upper-back length blond hair, always wildly messy and usually kept in a low, loose ponytail (it is never spiky like Glam's hair usually is when he's happy.)

a black house-robe

pink sweatpants with a white stripe down the leg

black hello kitty slippers with a pink bow

a plain black choker

black wrist cuffs / bracelets and black nails

dark eye circles with occasional mascara or eyeliner

Ches

5ft 9in / mid 50s

shoulder-length, shaggy, brown hair with a black hair band beneath his bangs

one piercing in each earlobe with diamond studs

a black button-down

a tight-fitting black suit with chains connected to the pocket and the collar of the shirt

brown leather dress shoes

a tiger's eye necklace and a dark green tie

Vicky

5ft 10in / mid 50s

tailbone-length ginger hair kept in a braid with some loose strands

a small, black leather biker vest

a black tank top with a white Amon Amarth logo

black leather garter shorts

a black o-ring thigh garter on both thighs

black biker gloves, wrist cuffs / bracelets, and chains

black calf-high lace-up biker boots

occasionally wears black knee-pads

#metal family inside job #metal family inside job au #metalcest #metal family au #ao3 #ao3 writer #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #problematic fiction

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quinnlarrabee · 1 year

Text

Do you work?

“Do you work?”

I looked to my right at the person who asked me this question, which sounded like a typo. He was around 28, tall with a messy head of brown hair and blue eyes, and he was wearing a perfectly fitted dark blue suit with a faintly pink shirt barely buttoned to his navel, a thin decorative scarf, a gold pinky ring, and a watch that could fund the average midwestern couple’s retirement. He was looking askance at me – peering, really – and seemed bored.

Given the context, his question was reasonable.

For a stretch in the mid-aughts I accidentally ran around New York City almost exclusively with fashion editors, Upper East Side trust fund kids and European nobility. During this brief, surreal window into an alternate universe I received fuckoff-sized paper invitations to museum galas, found myself on the guest lists of the most exclusive clubs (Beatrice, Double 7, and Bungalow 8), and humored a lot of fraught conversations in Spring and Fall about where people were summering and wintering, which were new verbs in my plebeian vocabulary. I never had to break stride to walk through any door preceded by a line or velvet ropes, because I was walking in behind people who had names that were preceded by hereditary titles, immortalized in social registers, and printed on the mastheads of then important but now irrelevant publications. I don’t quite know how it happened, but suddenly no one in my entire social circle really did anything but attend.

These were people who don’t work (PWDW, pronounced pee-dub-dee-dub).

The bored toff and I were seated next to one another at a dinner in the subterranean wine cellar of a very buzzy, flash-in-the-pan restaurant on the Lower East Side, which at the time was chic and favored by the jetset because it was still an overlooked, underdeveloped home to other jetsetters pretending to be poor artists. Among the dozen or so people around the table were a few leggy, bright-young-thing Vogue editors who lived off of bottomless expense accounts, but most of the guests were Counts and Barons and Ladies from Europe and the UK. It was like the United Nations for landed gentry. They were of the variety of restless, angsty rich children who in their mid-twenties leave behind their medals and sashes and ride into New York City on the magnetic strips of their parents’ debit cards to befriend DJs, abuse drugs, and have a lot of sex until their family sends a prim attaché to quietly fetch them from rehab or, worse, extract them from an inappropriate relationship. Funded by heaps of ill-begotten aristocratic wealth and powered by nouveau socialite influence, the dinner was a perfectly balanced sycophantic ecosystem.

I felt sorely out of place. My inseam is barely 32 inches after yoga, my family doesn’t have a coat of arms or a castle, and back then, the only thing I attended with regularity was an office where I worked.

This brings me back to the essential question, which sounded like, d’jooWEHK?

In the only two and a half syllables that he uttered at me, I could hear in his accent where he sat in the House of Windsor’s extended family tree: a branch far enough from duty to be making small talk with me at 10pm on a Tuesday night in NYC, but close enough to be wary of who he was seated next to. I decided there was only one direction to take this conversation.

“God, no,” I said, looking slightly away from him, furrowing my brow just a bit and lacing my two-word response with a touch of disgust. I took care not to expend more energy answering the question than he had expended asking it. People whose generational wealth and privilege have spared them the drudgery of working for a living ironically speak as if they are perpetually exhausted—as if every word that emerges from their pouted mouths requires Herculean effort. (Watch Prince – sorry, King Charles speak. You’ll see what I mean.)

“I have no living family who have ever worked,” I pronounced flatly, meeting his gaze, entirely committed to wearing his birthright as a costume. He laughed, very pleased by this.

“I thought all the money in America was only a generation or two old,” he said, sneering a bit. “Barely even a patina on it.” I imagined how annoying he must have been at Eaton. I bet he’d been a flamboyant fencer and a closeted bisexual.

“The proper families in New York sorted themselves out in the late 1800s,” I said, “not long after we sent your lot bleeding back to King George.” He raised his eyebrows and laughed. How is it that even the most handsome Brits look like horses when they laugh? The young woman to his right leaned in and addressed us in a very thick Italian accent imbued with plummy British.

“What are you two laughing about?” She was arrestingly beautiful. She probably would have been a model if her family hadn’t forbidden her from working.

“This American is explaining how peerage works in his country,” he said, his sneer-laugh reduced to a fatigued chuckle and a lazy smirk. I couldn’t tell if I was now in on the joke or the joke itself.

“Do you work?” I asked her. She smiled very sweetly and slightly shook her pretty head.

“Not yet, maybe I will not work – at a job,” she said. “I like reading and studying. I like learning about Italian art and history.” EEE-storee.

“Contessa Constantina’s family owns most of southern Italy,” announced the disdainful Brit. “Her studying art and history is just sort of reading the diaries of her ancestors.” He laughed at his joke. Constantina playfully slapped his arm and bared her perfect teeth at him. I realized right then and there that if I didn’t stop RSVPing to cursive invitations and gliding around with bored aristocrats and laughing at jokes about being bored aristocrats, I’d lose my drive, my self-respect, and certainly my savings.

I never saw the Brit or his Italian heiress again. They probably now have two kids in boarding school, split their time between Soho, Southampton, Surry and Sardinia, and both keep thinly concealed boyfriends on the Upper East Side or in Portugal. I distanced myself from PWDW and found friends who wanted to do things and build things (DTBT). I did things and built things.

Today, I am again surrounded by people who do not work.

But it’s a different kind of idleness. It isn’t rarified or earned over generations. These PWDW are not confined to secret dining rooms and donor circles and the fashion shows of young people bankrolled by ancestral conquests depicted in oil paintings displayed on the walls of their families’ crumbling villas. They’re everywhere.

No one really works anymore.

We check our many inboxes. We toggle between our employers’ email account, Instagram DMs and iMessage. We affirm things, rearrange things, and every once in a while, emphatically disagree with things to show that we’re paying attention. Like toddlers pretending to eat peas to appease their parents, we just move things around on our plates and occasionally throw fits. White collar digital work apes social media: everything has been reduced to likes and the shrug emoji.

Many of the PWDW I know these days have had an exit, and they are no longer required to even performatively work. An exit is when you build something that someone else perceives to be valuable or threatening, and they give you an eye-watering sum of money to allow what you’ve built to be digested into a larger business, where it will eventually wither, or to be extinguished immediately out of competitive spite. Post-exit people are a funny lot. They work insanely hard for three to twelve years, usually in relative poverty, and then a single event rockets them into the socioeconomic stratosphere, where they meet other people who don’t work—often the gilded European and posh Brit types from whom I extracted myself back in 2006. Together, they attend thought leadership conferences where they exchange tips about places to summer and winter that working people have never heard of.

The only people I know who actually work are people who do things with their hands, and this does not include typing. I’m talking about the kind of work performed by surgeons and landscapers and carpenters. People whose vocations have proper names still work. Florist, butcher, fishmonger. If you are something, you work. If you work in something, you don’t actually work. If your money comes from something, you definitely don’t work.

So, I ask you -

Do you work?

#dark humor #satire #social commentary #essays #culture

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thewritingboi · 2 years

Text

Grand Reopening - Chapter 2

let's do better this time

"Just one week after the closing of 'Bear' Mr. Jack Kennedy is opening another Freddy Fazbenders pizza location" Said the newscaster in a very monotone voice "To quote a local parent 'I told you this was the worst possible timeline' and I am inclined to agree"

Today was finally the day, Jack walked up to the double doors and pushed them open to see his brand new restaurant. He saw Steven adjusting his tie getting ready work, at the same time Peter was chasing a herd of doggos that had stolen the hat to his new security guard outfit. Dave was arguing with Dee over the best food to put on a kebab, Blackjack look slightly annoyed as he was being carried by Dee around the restaurant.

well things seem to be going good so far Jack thought as he walked to the stage to see their newly built "rockstar" animatronics

"well, I guess Its time to open up" Jack stated before sticking two fingers in his mouth and letting out a loud whistle

Immediately Dave, Steven, Dee, and a still hatless Peter rushed over to the show stage.

"Wuddup, Old Sport?" Dave said

"We are about to open so i need everyone to be ready, Peter and Dee you are on security, Steven i need you to hire a night guard and any other employees that we need, and Dave you just be yourself." Jack ordered to his new employees

Alright, let's start making some cash and bringing joy to ungrateful toddlers Jack thought to himself with enthusiasm.

~~~~~ one and a half hours later ~~~~~

It was pure chaos.

Jack was running around serving pizza to families while Peter was fighting a Mysterious Giant Scuttler that seemed to be summoned the second the place opened. Dave was helping deliver pizza and cake while wearing a catsuit they had found at a nearby party city, Dee was strangely calm while watching and taking note of every child that came in and left. Steven was talking with people on his phone head who Jack could only assume were soon to be employees.

Jack finished his deliveries and bolted to the security office shutting both doors before sitting down on the floor and giving a long, deep sigh. Jack sat there for a full 20 minutes before building up the courage to walk back out of the office. He began to walk to the show stage before getting an idea, Jack walked into the janitor's closet and grabbing three brooms.

A few minutes later Jack had successfully summoned Jimbo and convinced him to work at the restaurant, Jack walked around and saw that things were calming down and he could feel himself calming down. Though there was still plenty of customers there was still a lot less then before and Jack could not be happier.

After a few hours the restaurant was getting close to closing time and Jack decided to relax for a bit in the one place he knew no one would find him, the roof. He made his way to the roof and sat down on a chair he had set up earlier.

Jack sat down and began relaxing, until he heard the sound of a chair hitting the ground and a person landing in it.

"Why, hello there old sport." Dave smiled as he spouted his catchphrase

Jack watched as Dave sat on his dark purple chair wearing a purple jacket. he sat down a case of beer in between both of them.

"uh, thanks dave." Jack said

They both sat there, drinking their beers enjoying the sunset.

"Sportsy, you look cold." Dave said

Jack had not even realized that he was shivering

"I'm fine Dave" Jack lied

Jack looked away and continued to shiver until he felt the soft comfort of a jacket be draped onto him. Jack mumbled a quiet thanks before looking back at dave who was staring intently at the sunset.

And that's what they did, watched the sunset until it was time for them to go home.

Several hours later

Former resting place of "bear"

A hand reached out of the burnt wreckage of the destroyed pizzeria. A corpse stuffed in a burnt and decayed rabbit suit crawled out and stood up. The creature opened its eyes showing its glowing pink irises. The rabbit walked forward and found a singed box containing a fire ax. He picked it up and look toward the city

"I always come back"

___________________________________________

A/N

DUN DUN DUN

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter with the start of some DaveSport and the introduction to this different version of DaveTrap, what is different? you will have to find out. Still looking for feedback and I will see you on the flipside.

#dsaf #dsaf au #dayshift at freddy's #fanfiction

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the-void-writes · 2 years

Note

“You look delectable in that dress.”

So I really wanted to write Illyera and Molly just being friends and wearing pretty stuff 😅 I’m really sorry if she and Ezekiel are both OOC 💖

Deliah rested her hands on Molly’s neck, mesmerized by her swift hands as she sewed on one last star. She had always been a gifted designer back home, and now her ideas could only grow stronger, thanks to all of Paradise’s materials. Threads of pure starlight, fabrics woven straight from the rivers, and ribbons made from the hottest fire. With Molly’s skilled hands, she could turn the universe into the most beautiful suit or dress.

That was exactly what she was doing for her newest client, Miss Illyera. A queen like her deserved the finest garment Molly could imagine. Deliah had watched her go through countless designs before finally settling on something absolutely breathtaking: a long, flowing gown with sleeves that cascaded down her arms while leaving her shoulders bare, reflecting the ever-changing colors and starlight of the cosmos.

Illyera clasped her hands together, unable to contain her smile as Molly finished sewing. As soon as she stopped adjusting the skirt and stepped back, Illyera spun in place. The dress spread out like a blanket of the universe, sparkling and shifting around her like she was the queen of the galaxy itself.

“Oh, your highness—” Molly held her hands to her lips. “You look so beautiful!”

Illyera laughed and hugged Molly. “You have such gifted hands, my dear. Thank you.”

“Thank you, my Queen. You always give me the best ideas.”

Molly looked up at Deliah, who had been standing slack-jawed ever since Illyera started spinning.

“What do you think, Dee-Dee?”

Deliah hid her red face behind her jacket. “It’s the most beautiful one I’ve ever seen, Molls.”

She smiled coyly. “The dress or the model?”

Illyera laughed to herself as Deliah looked away. The poor lady was thankfully saved from the teasing as the shop door opened. There was a soft, hearty laugh, one that Illyera knew well.

“My darling,” Ezekiel said as he took her hand, “Miss Flynn has turned you into a star!”

“She’s a masterful craftsman,” Illyera said. “Simply breathtaking.”

“I can’t believe anyone would dare to turn you away, madam.”

Molly smiled at the floor shyly, rubbing the pale patches of her dark arms. Deliah grabbed her hand to comfort her.

“You’re a stellar designer, baby. You always have been.”

Molly stood on her toes to properly kiss Deliah’s cheek. “Thanks, sugar. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Illyera hopped down from her stool and held them both close to her.

“I cannot thank either of you enough,” she said. “You’ve made this new world feel so welcoming.”

“And you’ve been one of the nicest clients I’ve ever had,” Molly said.

As Illyera left the payment for the dress, Ezekiel held her delicately, pressing his chest against her back as he whispered into her ear.

“Illy, my dear, I mean it. You look positively delectable.”

A shade of pink grew all the way to the tips of her pointed ears. Then, she smiled and whispered to him in return.

“Wait a little longer, my love. Then you can tell me again.”

#writeblr #writing community #ask games #crossover au

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whump-tr0pes · 2 years

Note

Me first! 😁 1, 4, and 5 for the writing wrapped?

Bee thank youuu

What genre did you write the most this year? Hahaha I'm not counting whump, because that's a gimmie. I'd say... religious-flavored angst?

Favorite paragraph you wrote this year? Ok this isn't strictly a paragraph, but...

Dee’s strange eyes and fangs were forgotten. He was lost, swimming in a choppy sea, barely able to keep his head above water but loving the waves of music that tossed him about. He brushed shoulders with a human wearing a thick blue coat, rubbed elbows with another that was wearing an entire fuzzy suit made of red and white. A human walking ahead of Dee bent to pick up his young child and put her on his shoulders. Then the human turned around, looking towards Dee. Dee flinched and ducked his head, praying he hadn’t been noticed.

“Now look up the hill, sweetheart,” the human said. The young child gasped and clapped her little hands, letting out a peal of delighted laughter that carried over the crowd, clear as a bell.

“Pretty!” she squealed, her cheeks pink with the cold. Her thick black curls were capped in a knit blue hat that looked like it was hand-made. Dee watched as the human man looked up at his child, and Dee swore he saw a heavenly glow in his eyes.

Favorite line of dialogue you wrote this year? *evil cackling*

“After all the things you’ve done?” Lucas murmured, drawing closer, craning Dee’s head back so he was forced to look at him. It relieved a little of the pressure on his throat, and he gasped in a breath. “Oh, little snake.” He released Dee’s hair all at once. Dee’s eyes rolled back as he dragged in breath after desperate breath. “‘Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it.’” He grinned, tilting his head to survey Dee. “There is no mercy for you. You are the enemy, little one. Your words and air and blood are poison. You possessed this body when it was not yours to take. You corrupted the human and manipulated them into being kind to you. Do you believe you deserve salvation, inimicus?”

#ask game

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gloriabomfim · 1 year

Text

[The moon hangs high in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the suburban neighborhood. It's the perfect setting for the transformation of our quirky trio - Wereroach Joey, Wereroach Dee Dee, and Wereroach Marky. As the clock strikes midnight, the magic unfolds.]

🌕 Wereroach Joey: [With a dramatic flourish, Joey's cockroach-werewolf transformation begins. His purple-fur head sprouts, and his pink-fur body follows suit. Fierce and fabulous, he lets out a triumphant howl.] Awooooo! It's Wereroach Joey time, baby!

🦗 Wereroach Dee Dee: [Dee Dee's metamorphosis is equally astounding. He morphs into a chubby, orange-fur-headed, blue-fur-bodied creature, resembling a roly-poly cockroach-werewolf. He lets out a howl, though it sounds more like a barking dog.] Woof! I mean, awroach!

🪲 Wereroach Marky: [Marky's transformation takes a different turn. He becomes a tall, skinny, green-fur-headed, grey-fur-bodied hybrid with an air of sophistication. He howls with elegance.] Ah-wooooo, my dear fellows. It's time to embark on our nocturnal escapades.

[With their unique styles and antics, the Wereroaches set off into the night, ready to bite and scratch anything that crosses their path. They move on all fours, their claws at the ready.]

🌕 Baby Wereroach Joey: [Suddenly, a soft whimper pierces the night. It's baby Wereroach Joey, now a mini-version of his fierce self. He crawls on all fours towards a bone lying on the ground, then pounces on it.] Awoof! Gimme that bone! Chomp, chomp, chomp!

[Joey gnaws on the bone with the enthusiasm of a baby wolf discovering its first chew toy.]

🦗 Wereroach Dee Dee: [Dee Dee, ever the canine mimic, joins in, his transformation into a baby just as entertaining. He crawls over to Joey, wagging an imaginary tail, and attempts to playfully steal the bone.] Woof, woof! Playtime, Joey!

[The two baby Wereroaches engage in a comical tug-of-war over the bone, their tiny claws scraping at the night air.]

🪲 Wereroach Marky: [Marky, maintaining his poise even as a baby, approaches the playful duo. He lets out a dignified howl that sounds more like a regal yawn.] Ah-woof, my dear friends. I do believe our midnight snack deserves a touch of refinement.

[Marky delicately nibbles on the bone, demonstrating his cultured taste even in baby form. The trio continues their adorable antics under the moonlight, creating a unique blend of chaos and sophistication that only the Wereroaches can deliver.]

[As the night wears on, the Wereroaches keep howling, biting, scratching, and amusing themselves until the first light of dawn signals the end of their quirky nocturnal adventures.] 🌕🐾

#wereroach joey #wereroach dee dee #wreroach marky

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fmp-nic · 2 years

Text

Beasley Street, John Cooper Clarke

Far from crazy pavements

The taste of silver spoons

A clinical arrangement

On a dirty afternoon

Where the fecal germs of Mr Freud

Are rendered obsolete

The legal term is "null and void"

In the case of Beasley Street

In the cheap seats where murder breeds

Somebody is out of breath

Sleep is a luxury they don't need

A sneak preview of death

Belladonna is your flower

Manslaughter your meat

Spend a year in a couple of hours

On the edge of Beasley Street

Where the action isn't

That's where it is

State your position

Vacancies exist

In an X-certificate exercise

Ex-servicemen excrete

Keith Joseph smiles and a baby dies

In a box on Beasley Street

From the boarding-houses and the bedsits

Full of accidents and fleas

Somebody gets it

Where the missing persons freeze

Wearing dead men's overcoats

You can't see their feet

A riff joint shuts, opens up

Right down on Beasley Street

Cars collide, colours clash

Disaster-movie stuff

For a man with a Fu Manchu moustache

Revenge is not enough

There's a dead canary on a swivel seat

There's a rainbow in the road

Meanwhile on Beasley Street

Silence is the code

Hot beneath the collar

An inspector calls

Where the perishing stink of squalor

Impregnates the walls

The rats have all got rickets

They spit through broken teeth

The name of the game is not cricket

Caught out on Beasley Street

The hipster and his hired hat

Drive a borrowed car

Yellow socks and a pink cravat

Nothing, la-dee-dah

OAP, mother-to-be

Watch the three-piece suite

When shit-stoppered drains

And crocodile skis

Are seen on Beasley Street

The kingdom of the blind

A one-eyed man is king

Beauty problems are redefined

The doorbells do not ring

A lightbulb bursts like a blister

The only form of heat

Here a fellow sells his sister

Down the river on Beasley Street

The boys are on the wagon

The girls are on the shelf

Their common problem is

That they're not someone else

The dirt blows out

The dust blows in

You can't keep it neat

It's a fully furnished dustbin

Sixteen Beasley Street

Vince the ageing savage

Betrays no kind of life

But the smell of yesterday's cabbage

And the ghost of last year's wife

Through a constant haze

Of deodorant sprays

He says retreat

Alsations dog the dirty days

Down the middle of Beasley Street

People turn to poison

Quick as lager turns to piss

Sweethearts are physically sick

Every time they kiss

It's a sociologist's paradise

Each day repeats

On easy, cheesy, greasy, queasy

Beastly Beasley Street

Eyes dead as vicious fish

Look around for laughs

If I could have just one wish

I would be a photograph

On a permanent Monday morning

Get lost or fall asleep

When the yellow cats are yawning

Around the back of Beasley Street

Beasley Street is an incredible poem observing the poverty stricken life of Brittan in the 1980s. The guttural descriptions are presented with such whit and elegance and dare it be said, some humour. While observing the grittiness of life the film Withnail and i comes to mind; and I remember watching a documentary about that film. There was one quote that stuck out to me, that it is eternally engaging to watch these characters living and getting by in these squalled conditions however you would not trade anything to swap positions with them.

#Spotify

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tintinwrites · 4 years

Text

i’d rather be lonely | Javier Peña x Reader | Part Eight

A/N: You all forgive me for the other chapters with this one, right?

Rating: 18+

Warning: Very passionate P in V sex on a desk in an office. Javier ain’t wrapped but is he ever? Please engage in safe sex with people. Naughty words.

Word count: 2,918, apparently!!

Summary: You and Javier are arguing now that you’re not distracted by success when you both, uh...explode.

Masterlist

GIF credit: @damerondjarin

Tags: @thedevilwearsvibranium @bisexual-space-slut @thirsty-flygirl @shadow-assassin-blix @damndamer0n @huliabitch @damerondjarin @perropascal @mylifeliterally @no-thanks-lol @dee-vn @jenniferdaniels12 @cinewhore @lokiaddicted @justabeautiful-letdown @shakespeareanwannabe @lackofhonor @katialvi @fangirl-on-bitches @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass @darkbluenovember

------------------------

“It was all her. I was just there.”

Javier nodded to what was being said on the phone as he sat on the side of his desk, watching as you quietly finished up your part of the paperwork that needed done.

The office was empty aside from the two of you and he looked at you with the corners of his mouth nearly turned up into a smile as he hung up the phone. “You wanna go grab a drink?”

You glanced up at him from the papers and shook your head lightly, the smile on your lips looking a bit more mocking than it did friendly.

You didn’t answer him at first, signing your name and then standing up to put the paper in a file folder then put it in its proper place for it to be looked over.

“Are you looking for something to stick your dick in to celebrate?”

This made Javier pause, his brow furrowed slightly, because you’d been good for a minute and now the joy of success seemed to have worn off and you were right back to hating him. He couldn’t stand this, couldn’t deal with you viewing him like this when he didn’t know what he did that could fuck up the camaraderie you’d found. “What the fuck is your problem?”

You glared at the anger in his tone as if you weren’t jabbing at him all the time, rolling your eyes and moving towards the door to leave.

Javier let his arms drop from where they’d crossed over his chest, pushing off the desk and grabbing onto your elbow to stop you from walking away from him.

“I asked you a question.” He didn’t want to sound like this much of an asshole, but he wanted you to tell him what he’d done wrong rather than just bitch at him or ignore him.

“Why don’t you ask one of your whores since you seem to value them so much?” You spat, quickly yanking out of his grip.

“Is that seriously what this is about? You know I sleep around. I didn’t think it would matter with...with whatever the hell it was we were doing.” He threw his hands into the air as if your friendship or whatever it was could be seen if he gestured in the right direction.

“And I thought I’d misjudged you and you were a good man, but I was right when I thought you were a womanizing, disgusting asshole.” Your voice was starting to raise and you could tell by the rage in his eyes that his was about to, too. You’d always been good at pushing each other’s buttons like this.

“Having sex does not make me a bad person, you’re not gonna stand here acting like you’re a fucking virgin—”

“You’re not gonna talk about me in a sexual way like that or I’m going to report you.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying that you can’t stand here telling me I’m a bad person because I sleep around. I thought you were starting to see more than that in me.”

“And I thought you were starting to see more with me, but I was evidently wrong, so fuck you, Peña.”

The two of you didn’t realize you’d been moving closer until you were toe to toe, practically nose to nose, and you were far too pissed off to realize what you’d said. It took Javier a moment, too, before he thought over your words.

Did you just…

Was that why you were so upset about finding him with a prostitute? Was he right about you seeing him as more than a womanizer, but wrong about how much more? Did you bring the churros because you owed him or because you were trying to tell him something?

He was angry, and confused, and you were starting to turn away from him in a huff, and his first instinct was to grab you, pull you against him, and slam his lips onto yours.

Your hands went up to push him away, but when they moved to his shoulders, all you did was grip onto his shirt tightly, your lips slowly starting to move against his in the angriest, most passionate kiss you’d ever been part of.

It was like all the frustration you both let build up was being put onto each other now in a way that revealed its true nature; you, wanting him and only hating him now because he’d unknowingly broken your heart, and Javier, wanting you despite how much you infuriated and confused him.

You broke apart with a gasp, holding onto each other with more passion than rage in your eyes as you stared.

“I’d rather fuck you,” he admitted.

You wanted to fuck him, too. Beneath all the hateful retorts was a woman who’d entertained the idea with a man who was more than she thought, trying to hurt him because he’d hurt her and she was sure he was the man she’d assumed him to be.

But maybe he wasn’t.

That kiss seemed like more than him simply wanting to fuck you and cast you aside, and you realized as you stared at him in crackling silence that he’d kissed you when you accidentally said you thought he wanted more with you.

Maybe you were foolish or maybe you were finally doing the right thing as you admitted that you wanted him, too, with your hands gripping onto his hair tightly to yank him back towards you.

This kiss was even more passionate, your lips slamming against his as you tugged at his hair, his hands moving to your hips and pulling you tight against him.

There was definitely a bulge in his jeans that only turned you on rather than making you insult him for it, now seeing the evidence of him genuinely desiring you and letting yourself want him; or maybe you were just joining all the other women and fucking him because he was attractive.

You didn’t care, letting your hands roam all over him as his ran over you, both of you stumbling as you kissed again and again, until he was turning you to press your ass into the front of one of the desks.

He shoved every last paper and pen off the damn thing and you hopped up onto it, opening your legs for him to stand between, gasping when he pushed your skirt up and stroked up your thighs immediately.

You pulled away to hurriedly unbutton that red shirt of his that fit him so nicely, kissing along his chest with every new inch of skin you could see.

You didn’t realize how much you’d wanted to kiss and touch Javier until you were doing it.

His fingers brushed against the edge of your underwear and he smiled when he felt lace, tugging it down until it was around your thighs to admire the scrap of clothing. “Never pegged you as the type to wear something so pink.”

“Shut up and take it off me.” You tried to stay assertive even though you were thinking of him pinning you down to this desk and fucking into you, leaning back to watch him as he moved away just enough to pull your panties down your legs until they dropped to the floor.

“Am I the one who made you wet?” He was referencing the glimpse of the wet patch he’d seen in your panties, silently asking permission with his hand on your thigh, rubbing circles into your skin, pushing his hand up further to that still-hidden place when you nodded your consent.

Both of you moaned when his fingers first brushed against your slit; you because it’d been a long time and you wanted him more than you’d wanted any person in your life, him because you were so damn wet for him, so beautiful, so fucking sexy offering him a chance with you like this.

He found your clit with practiced ease, but it took him a moment to find the sweet spot there that made your hips lift off the desk in search of more friction.

Your little whines and the wiggling of your hips made him focus his attention there, stroking slow and firm circles into you, pretty sure he was going to bust through his damn zipper with how wet and needy you were on his fingers.

You noticed the way he was pressing into the side of your knee for some pleasure of his own and you tugged him closer by his belt, quickly unbuckling it then opening up his pants, shoving them down enough to free his cock.

The sight of him made your clit twitch, eyeing up his gorgeous dick then letting your eyes travel up to meet his dark gaze.

You ran your nails through the curls at the base of his cock and his eyelids actually fluttered, lips parting slightly as he pressed into your touch.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wear underwear in jeans on a stakeout.” You wrapped your hand around him, squeezing lightly when you felt his fingers moving down to trace your entrance.

“I can’t believe you wore a skirt.” He wasn’t complaining, though, eyeing the bunched up fabric and sliding a finger into you easily.

“I wanted to look professional unlike you.”

“I wonder how you would’ve explained yourself if those narcos saw you skulking around the yard in a two piece suit.”

There was something different about the banter now, lighter and almost playful, more desire than it was hatred or heartbreak. It was even more satisfying than the spiteful retorts you used to take solace in when the job was too much, finding that you enjoyed flirting with Javier much more than hating him.

You were enjoying this entire thing, pushing aside all the emotions in your head about how seeing that woman leave his apartment hurt you, why it did, the way you could tell by the moment he chose to kiss you that this wasn’t just a fling to him.

Right?

His finger curled and rubbed up against a spot inside of you that made your jaw drop, a moan falling from your lips that you might’ve been ashamed for him to hear at one point. Not now. You wanted him to know how much you’d really desired him.

“That good?” he asked, not nearly as smug as you thought he would be to be pleasuring you like this. He seemed to actually want an answer to be sure that you were enjoying this.

“I want you inside of me.” It was gasped out, all needy and desperate, knowing that being fucked by Javier Peña was probably going to be better than any man who fucked you before.

His dick twitched in your hand at this and you watched the precum beading on his tip, squeezing your knees around his hips.

He pulled his hand away from you, hands on your thighs as he pulled you further on the desk and moved in closer towards you, lining his cock up to your entrance only to drop his head down with a groan.

“What’s wrong?” You asked with a hint of nervousness that you didn’t picture, wondering if he was going to tell you he couldn’t do this because of all the hurtful things you said to him, or maybe tell you that he’d rather be fucking somebody else.

“No fucking condom.” He started to pull away with a growl out of respect for you probably wanting a condom since he usually didn’t care, but you hooked your legs around him to pull him back and he looked at you questioningly.

“I’m on the pill. It’s fine.” Now his cock was twitching against your thigh and you reached between you, guiding him back towards your cunt.

“I can pull out,” he said quickly, because he was pushing into you and you were so fucking tight, so fucking wet, that anything else he tried to say was just a moan.

You were just sitting there with your mouth hanging open, eyes closing and your brow furrowing as he filled you; it was a little bit of a stretch, but it was pleasurable and you didn’t realize you’d missed sex this much.

Maybe you didn’t, maybe Javier was just showing you sex you were going to miss.

Was this a one time thing? Was that what you wanted it to be? Did you want to sleep with him again and be more than sex?

You knew the answer, but you weren’t sure if it matched his.

He was able to push most of himself into you before he knew he needed to pause to let you adjust to his size, grabbing onto the desk and hunching over you a bit so he could press his head against your shoulder.

How the fuck was a man supposed to keep from blowing his load when you were whimpering and moaning into his ear like that? Fuck, he knew you were unbelievably gorgeous, but he never imagined sex with you would be this incredible and, well, sexy.

Javier prided himself on being able to last a pretty long time during sex, and he needed to pause inside you to stop from coming with the way your walls were squeezing and clenching around him.

Once he was able to pull back a little and you were starting to stroke over his shoulders and his arms rather than sit there in awe of his cock, he slowly pulled himself out of you and then just as slowly pushed back in.

Both of you moaned in unison, finding a place where you weren’t arguing or secretly pining, where the world was just the two of you wanting and taking each other without thought.

The more he thrust, the deeper his cock pushed into you, and he began to speed up his rhythm a little, pumping in and out of you with ease because you were that damn wet.

A part of him wondered how long you’d wanted him and figured it was around the time you started being unable to look him in the eye for more than a second, but that thought wasn’t exactly at the forefront of his mind when you were this good.

You were staring at his neck, something you might have admired on him once or twice in the back of your mind because it was so soft-looking, so thick…

He let out a low groan when you leaned forward and sucked hard right above his collarbone, leaving a mark on him that he was pretty sure everyone was going to see at work.

It turned him on to think of people seeing a hickey on him from you, and he was on you the moment you pulled away, sucking and biting and nipping on the side of your neck, his hips thrusting of their own accord at the gorgeous moan that you let out.

His head fell to the side and pressed into your shoulder as he fucked into you harder, his hand moving along your thigh until he found your clit again, rubbing circles into it and occasionally flicking at it. You would jump and moan each time he did it, which only made him touch you harder.

“Fuck, fuck, Javi, I’m so close.” You’d never been this close to orgasming this quickly with anyone, but Javier was damn good at this and you were enjoying this and you didn’t care.

You didn’t care that you hated him, you didn’t care that you’d been hurt by him, you didn’t care that you called him by his nickname like you were friends, you didn’t care that you were letting him inside you like this.

Because you didn’t hate him, and he wasn’t hurting you, and maybe you were friends, and, fuck, you should’ve let him inside of you a long time ago.

He was approaching his own orgasm if the way his thrusts were becoming a bit jerkier was any indication, but like hell he was going to come without making you fall apart on him.

“You gonna come for me, huh?” He was growling, teeth bared, fingers moving even faster and firmer against your clit as you fluttered around him. “I want you to come for me, show me what I do to you.”

“Yes, yes, yes...faster, Javi, please…” You grabbed onto his shoulders tightly, pressing your nails into them and making him moan.

The desk was rocking against the floor with each thrust, he was fucking you so fast and hard, fingers moving even faster on your clit, and then you were lifting your hips and crying out, your cunt clenching so tight around him that he was moaning with you.

His thrusts were sloppy and uneven and he just barely remembered to pull out of you where he spilled all over your thighs and skirt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He was practically leaning entirely on you, one hand working you through your orgasm and the other jerking himself.

You both went silent aside from him panting into your shoulder and you panting against his hair, nuzzling into him like you were lovers or something.

When you slowly returned to the real world, you looked around the room then down at the two of you, leaning back a bit, not unhappy with fucking him even now that you weren’t only thinking about coming.

“Javier?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Isn’t this Steve’s desk?”

#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier peña imagine #javier pena imagine

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thecampfirestory · 4 years

Text

You better believe I wrote a dinner party fic

As the mayor’s son, you have certain responsibilities that must be upheld. That was what Patton’s dad always said when Patton would have to change into a stuffy suit and accompany his father to a dinner party. There was never a point in trying to get out of it, it was just a couple hours of squirming and talking to adults about his “girlfriend” to make his father look like he was a good parent.

Now that Patton was almost in college, he had been blowing off the dinner parties completely. Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like his dad would punish him. No, he never gave a shit about what Patton was doing, as long as it didn’t affect him. (And even then, he could just pay for it to disappear.)

Today Patton was in his bedroom alone, which was unusual for him. Typically he would be hanging with his friends, but they were all busy, so he was just spacing out listening to Dodie. Then he heard the door open.

His dad never knocked, he just went wherever he wanted to. Privilege of being the most important man in town, Patton guessed. (He would have licked the door for privacy, but his dad had the locks removed years ago, probably so he could barge in.) He sighed. “What is it?”

“Headphones, Patton. I need to know that you’re listening when I speak to you.” Patton rolled his eyes, but took his headphones off. Yeah, wish that would go both ways, he thought. His dad continued. “You’re going off to college in a few weeks, so this will be the last dinner party you’re available to attend. I expect you to be there.”

Patton wanted to scream at him. “Yeah and I expected you to be a father!” But he didn’t scream. He never did. He sat there, trying to keep his anger in check. Five more weeks, he thought to himself. Just wait it out five more weeks. He didn’t want to go to this thing. He was tired of being in huge crowds all alone.

Except, he didn’t have to be alone. He may not have a mom, and that man was sure as hell not a father, but he had family. It was a crazy idea, but it would definitely piss his dad off, so it was worth it. “Can I bring a plus one?” His dad smiled. “As long as you show, you can bring as many people as you like.” Now Patton smiled. Perfect.

When he asked his friends if they could come to the dinner party, they were happy to come so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. And when he explained his plan, they were all doubly happy to take part.

When the day came, Pat was wearing his best suit, to look the part. Logan was dressed in a navy suit, and also one of those fake stick-on mustaches because “it made him look distinguished.” Roman and Remus were wearing matching grey suits, with red and green ties respectively. Dee was wearing a bow tie, and had his hair tied in a neat bun.

Virgil was wearing a black suit with a lavender dress shirt, and their signature pink skirt underneath. They had even combed their hair a little. Patton has never seen them looking so… sharp. He turned to them and asked, “are you SURE you’re okay with this? ‘Cause if you’re uncomfortable with being called a guy I totally…” Vee cut him off. “I volunteered for this, dumbass. I’ll be fine.” With that, they all walked in and sat down.

Patton was in between Vee and the old lady he was always stuck next to, Mrs. Plum. She was the one who always asked him about his non-existent girlfriend. Not exactly a shocker that nobody here knew he was gay. Well, that would change pretty soon anyway.

Mrs. Plum glanced at the campfire gang, and then back to Patton. “Oh goody, you’ve brought friends.” She looked at Vee. “And who is this lovely young…” She paused to scrutinize, looking back and forth between the skirt and the tie and blazer and the eyeshadow before deciding on “Lady?”

Patton smiled. “No, Mrs. Plum, that’d be my boyfriend, Virgil.” And holy shit, did she turn pale. The rest of the table turned to stare, and then immediately away to pretend they weren’t listening. The gang was watching this and trying not to laugh.

Mrs. Plum tried her best to recover from this. “Ah well, erm… What is it you like to do, Virgil?” Vee smiled, ready to sow some chaos in this boring party. “Oh, lots of things, but mostly I like to collect bugs.” If it was possible for her to turn more pale, she did. “B-bugs?” Virgil grinned. “Yeah, yknow, little creepy crawlies? I keep ‘am in jars and stuff. I think I have one in my bag, do you wanna see?”

With that, the mayor arrived and said in a pained voice “No, thank you, now is NOT the time.” He covertly glared at his son, hoping this would be the only disturbance of the night. Unfortunately for him, this did not happen.

Instead, a man who runs a successful business firm made the mistake of engaging Logan in conversation. He asked if Logan’s mustache was real, to which Logan replied “What mustache?” This went on for a while until the man eventually gave up.

A woman in a nice dress wanted to ask Dee a question, but didn’t know his name, so settled for “you, young man with the hair?” All six of the friends said “Yes?” The woman sighed. “I should have phrased that better, young man with the LONG hair.” Dee cleared his throat and she continued with her question. “What are you majoring in?”

“Oh, I dropped out.” The table went silent. This was a group of affluent families who got top-dollar educations, they didn’t talk to many college dropouts. Mrs. Plum attempted to pick up the conversation again.

“Speaking of college, Patton, I hear you’ll be putting yourself through on scholarships, is that right? I’m sure your father would be more than happy to pay the tuition, isn’t that correct?” She stared at Patton’s dad, and he looked actually nervous, odd for him. Mrs. Plum, bless her, was trying to look out for Patton, even if it was misguided. His dad started to say something, but Pat cut him off with a glare of his own.

“No that’s alright, I wanted it this way. I don’t want everything handed to me out of legacy, I need to earn it for myself.” And because I don’t want a cent of his money, he thought, but he didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t have to. His dad knew.

The rest of the evening went rather smoothly, except for the part where Remus had a silverware sword fight with the nine year old across the table from him until he was asked to stop, but overall it went okay until dessert, where the final step of the plan came in.

Watching his dad’s face grow more and more pained by the antics was fun, more fun than he’d ever had at one of these things. By this point everyone at the dinner was convinced that these kids were a bunch of delinquents, and they weren’t too sure about Patton anymore either, but one member of the group had yet to do anything distasteful, so they had hope.

“Well Roman, at least you seem like a charming, well-mannered young man.” Roman smiled, and said sweetly, “thank you, you seem pretty fucking lovely yourself.” The table erupted, and a deep-voice man yelled out “EXCUSE ME, Mayor Storme!” The eleven year olds, who had never heard anyone curse at the table before, went absolutely nuts and started their own little chant, which their parents desperately tried to quiet down. Mayor Storme stood up sharply and said “Boys, take a walk outside with me.”

Things had been fun so far but the gang had never seen Patton’s dad angry before. Actually, they hadn’t seen much of him at all. The mayor pulled Patton aside. “I give you free reign to invite whoever you want, and you take steps to embarrass me at every turn! This was your LAST NIGHT!” Patton shook his head.

“Yes, it was. And now I’m leaving.” He reached out his hand for a shake, professional and cold. His father took it, and gave a curt shake. “Have a lovely evening, Mr. Mayor.”

Patton could hear his friends chatting up ahead, saying things like “that was dope” and “why didn’t we do that SOONER?!” He turned to face the solitary man one last time, and then turned back around and ran to catch up with his friends. And while that might not be the last time Patton saw his dad, it was the last time that mattered.

Logan wearing a fake mustache absolutely sent me GDNDHDNDHDK

Also Patton making sure Vee is okay with being called a guy- brb i gotta cry real quick

But yes!!!!! This was so good!!! You go Patton bby!!! Have your fun with your friends!!!!!!!!!!!!

#submission #campfire fics #campfire!patton #campfire!vee #campfire!nate #campfire!florian #campfire!cadmus

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sometimes-love-is-enough · 4 years

Photo

Character sheets and illustrations for @kieraelieson‘s @ts-storytime Big Bang story, Searching For Home! I’m very, very glad that I jumped in to pinchhit for her, because doing all this art has been an absolute blast.

Click on those bad boys for full size and details.

[image description: Below cut, due to length.

The first three images are digital art showing 'profiles' of the various characters - with one full-body illustration to the far left with their names next to them, and various smaller illustrations of them to the right.

First image:

1: 'Dee' - a medium-height man with shoulder-height wavy brown hair. His skin is light brown, and his ears are pointed. The right side of his face are covered in a dotted pattern, and he winks mysteriously at out at the viewer. He is wearing a long black cloak with bright golden highlights, and his arms are lightly crossed beneath it. Underneath it, he has a plain brown suit and long pants. He is barefoot. Next, a shot of Dee from behind displays that his cloak has a long gap in the back. He is glancing over one shoulder at the viewer. Handwritten text next to this reads 'back of cloak is also open to make room for wings' An illustration of Dee facing away from the viewer, now with a set of large golden-yellow wings on full display. They're similar in shape to butterfly wings, with two distinct sections to both sides and ragged edges, like a goldfish's tail. Light orange patterns run through them like veins. They appear to glow, faintly. Above this is a small doodle of Dee flying with these wings, arms outstretched to either side. He is glowing brightly, and a dotted line trails out from behind him, marking where he's flown frown.

2: 'Virgil' - a short child with pale skin and messy dark hair. His arms are crossed protectively over his front, and he looks out with his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. His shirt is grey and has many patches and tears on it, and his pants are a dark purple and in a similar state. His brown shoes are untied. Next to this, Virgil sits cross-legged on the ground, expression delighted as he pets and plays with a very large black fluffy spider with red eyes. A small purple heart hovers over his head. Virgil faces away, displaying a set of large wings that are attached to his back. His wings are similar to a monarch butterfly's, but purple and violet in coloring. The edges have bright white and purple spots on them, and the middle of both has intricate dotted patterns with teardrop-shaped black and white 'eye' markings on them. They are glowing faintly white. Above this, a sketchier drawing of Virgil attempting to fly with these wings. He has an expression of panic on his face, and is flailing his arms wildly. A handwritten note pointing to this illustration reads 'Too skinny, clothes are a bit too baggy + beat up.'

Second image:

1: 'Logan' - a tall thin man in a long black trenchcoat with silver buttons. Underneath, a dark blue shirt with ruffles and a pair of full-length brown pants with a silver belt. He has light skin and brown hair parted neatly over his left ear. He's wearing square spectacles and raising one hand in greeting, with the other tucked behind his back. Next to this, Logan is giving a Patton (see next character description) a ride on his shoulders. He's holding firmly onto Patton's legs, and smiling up at him. Patton's eyes are closed in contentment and his arms are folded on top of Logan's head. There is a swirl of dark blue in the background of this. A handwritten note next to this indicates that 'this is the right way to carry a child.' Logan, no longer his his long coat, has fallen asleep next to a pile of books. He rests his head in the crook of one arm, with a cartoonish 'Z' in a bubble above his head. Logan, in motion as he sprints towards some unknown destination. His eyes are wide and his coat swirls dramatically around him. A circle of dark color encircles his head. Two small sketches of Logan carrying Patton. In the first, he has Patton tucked inelegantly under one arm, like you might carry a football. Both of them seem unconcerned, and Patton is smiling. In the second, Logan lifts Patton up, holding him under the armpits with a blank expression. Patton flails his hands happily, grinning. The handwritten text next to this notes that 'These are probably not good ways to carry a child'.

2: 'Patton': a short chubby child with a bright grin and square glasses. His skin is a darker brown than Dee's, but still fairly light. His hair is curly and dark-gold, and he's wearing a light grey coat with lighter grey fluffy bits at the neck, sleeves, and bottoms. His jeans are cyan and fall just below his knees. He wears brown boots and a light-blue shirt underneath the coat. Patton in profile from the chest up, facing right. He isn't wearing his coat, and he's still grinning. A note pointing to his glasses reads 'Doesn't actually need glasses! They're frames. He wears them so he can look like Logan' Patton, waist-deep in water, with his coat pulled up around his head. His eyes aren't visible but he's still smiling. His hands are extended outwards, like he's venturing further into the water. He's surrounded by specks of light. Two doodles of a baby seal, whose fluffy fur and coloring greatly resembles Patton's coat. There are spots of gold the same shade as Patton's hair on its back.. The first shows the seal lying on its side and looking left, flippers pulled close to its chest and water droplets exploding out around it. A label declares it '(FLUFFY)'. In the next, the seal pup is splashing downwards into water, bubbles spiraling out around it.

Third image: 1: 'Remy' - a medium-height man with brown skin, wearing sunglasses (from behind which yellow eyes are faintly visible) and a necklace with a yellow pendant. Short orange horns extend from his dark brown hair. He's grinning crookedly and flashing a peace sign at the viewer. He wears an unbuttoned black jacket with a ragged hem and a dark shirt visible underneath it, and black sweatpants with dark brown boots. He balances his weight on one foot, tipping the other back. A handwritten note pointing to him reads 'hides horns under hair, hides yellow eyes behind dark glasses'. An illustration of Remy's dragon form - a tall black dragon with the same coloring as Remy's jacket, and massive dark wings that are extended above him. His tail is long and ends with a puff of wavy brown fluff. A note pointing to it reads 'swishy soft tail'. He has the same orange horns as humanoid-Remy does, except longer and curved backwards, and glowing yellow eyes. His neck is curved and bent downwards as he looks at a pink sketch of a fat man with wings, who is there to provide size reference. The man barely comes up to the base of his neck. An illustration of Remy in flight with Emile riding him (see next description for details). Remy's massive wings extended out to catch the wind, and his limbs and tail are bent as though he's turning in midair. He glances up at Emile, on his back. Emile is grinning, his own wings open to catch the wind, and is holding tightly to Remy's neck.

2: 'Emile' - a fat medium-height man with light brown skin and light brown hair streaked through his pink. He has square-ish spectacles and a half-smile on his face. He wears a light pink-grey sweater patterned with salmon stripes, and a pair of light blue jeans. His shoes are brown. He also has a pair of large wings extending from his back. They're dark brown at the top but the color transitions from there into a lighter brown, into even lighter brown, and from there into cream. Emile faces away from the camera, his wings fully extended behind him. From here, we can see that they resemble a falcon's wings, and that the dark brown is more prevalent on the back of them. A note pointing to this explains that they're 'Slightly too small to properly fly with - better for gliding'. An illustration of Emile in flight. His wings are extended to catch the air and are not rendered in very much detail. His arms are raise and one foot is extended, as if he's coming in to land. Behind him is a blue sky and faint wispy clouds.

The fourth image shows all of the full-body portraits from the previous images positioned next to each other to show their heights in relation to each other. In order from tallest to shortest, this is Logan, Remy, Emile, Dee, Virgil, and Patton. Behind them is a light pink-to-blue gradient, with lines extending from the top of their heads to emphasize their heights. They are standing on a nondescript grey rectangle.

The last three images are watercolor A4 portraits featuring the character designs from the previous images.

Fifth image: Virgil and Dee, both with their wings out, are in the middle of a lush green forest, surrounded by oversized flowers and blades of glass. The gnarled brown wood of various trees frames the scene. Dee is standing barefoot in the grass, facing sideways with his glowing golden wings extended behind him. He's smiling up at Virgil, with an encouraging hand extended upwards and the other holding onto Virgil's own hands. Virgil is giggling and hovering in midair, wings fluttering and legs slightly askew as he tries to work out how to fly. They're illuminated by a beam of sunlight from above. A spider appoximately the size of a small perches on the wood in the left foreground, watching them.

Sixth image: Logan walks through a rushing deep blue river that comes up to mid-calf height. His long coat swishes around him and he is glancing back with a worried expression on his face at Patton, who he's carrying on his back. Patton's arms are wrapped around Logan's chest and his legs are behind supported by Logan's hands. He's wearing his grey coat and flasses and appears to be asleep. Puffs of white mist swirl near Logan's head. Behind them both, a black-and-blue night sky is patterend with many, many white stars, some of which are connected in constellation patterns. The moon is bright white in the sky, a half-crescent that illuminates both Logan and Patton from behind.

Seventh image: Remy, in his humanoid form, kneels behind Emile on a bright yellow beach. Remy peers over his sunglasses, looking concerned, as he touches Emile's wings gently - they're tattered and ragged with blood covering them in messy splotches. Emile is sitting with his hands pressed into the sand, glancing back at Remy with a sheepish smile. In front of them, the ocean is visible with bright blue waves foaming white. Behind them, there are many rocks in red, pink, orange and yellow gradients. The sky above is blue with fluffy white clouds, and the sun shines down brightly on the scene.]

#sanders sides #tss #ts-storytime #kieraelieson #my art #long post #image description #image described art

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blarrghe · 4 years

Text

would be really great if adorable domestic ficlets about sequel!Twelve Nights (a thing that DOES NOT ACTUALLY EXIST there’s NO PLAN) would stop jumping into my head while I’m trying to finish this chapter of the Merrill Sessions and you can blame Taren and Dorian and the baby if I don’t. anyway this one is called Favourites: -- Kindergarten is a time of self discovery.

Bracha is five years old now, which means she can start kindergarten, and she is very excited. Taren is excited for her, in a your-happiness-is-my-happiness kind of way, even if he’s openly shedding tears as they pull up to the school parking lot. Dorian is not so generous. He is, frankly, just upset. He’d made a very good case as to why she should continue to learn from them, at home, including: they have more advanced degrees between the two of them than the entire staff of the elementary school put together, Bracha can‘t take field trips to the library or the valley to learn about ancient Tevene history or Dalish trail-signs or bugs every day if she goes to Kindergarten, and also, Kindergarten doesn’t have cuddling.

But apparently, Kindergarten actually takes a lot of field trips to the library and to the valley and even to the next town over to the science museum, Kindergarten’s teacher is a well-loved Dalish woman with wonderful credentials and two upstanding young teaching assistants whom Taren knows personally, and apparently having advanced degrees in astrophysics and business does not better suit one to teaching reading and social-emotional skills than ones in early childhood education and developing pedagogy. Also, Bracha really wants to go to Kindergarten, all her friends are going to Kindergarten, and ever since Autie Dee bought her a backpack in preparation, she hasn’t taken it off. So Kindergarten won that argument, though Dorian made a deal with his husband that they would reevaluate the situation in a year or two, because by that time beginning her education in astrophysics would be warranted, anyway. And now they are in the school parking lot and Taren is quietly weeping and Bracha is bouncing up and down in her carseat with her bright green backpack in her lap and her hair in already-messy braided pigtails, and Dorian has to be the one to get them inside.

Taren wipes his eyes as Bracha drags them up to the door, one of her tiny hands in each of her fathers’, and Kindergarten’s teacher is wearing overalls and a bombastic smile, greeting each child with a fun name-tag sticker and slow, patient directions for navigating her classroom: cubbies for their snacks, a reading nook with pillows if they get tired, activity tables, colouring sheets and markers in one station, a table filled with water and toys, bins of costumes and a kitchen set, a colourful carpet by the board where they’ll sit for stories and songs; a five-year-old’s dream. Dorian gets the feeling that the information package is more for them than it is for her, especially considering that Bracha practically sprints off to an easel equipped with water-colour fingerpaints the moment she spots it, and the teacher continues explaining the plans for the day without her.

Taren smiles, somehow finding one at the sound of Bracha’s laugh when she spots a friend across the room, while Dorian wonders if he can inspect the reading nook. But they make it out of there, somehow, and before driving them home, Taren drives them both over to Auntie Dee’s, and she sighs at them and gives them ice cream. Taren blushes, and Dorian is distracted: when Taren was little, ice cream always helped, she says. Taren protests that he has never mended a hurt with ice cream, while digging into the container for more, and Auntie Dee says chocolate chip was his favourite.

Favourite is an interesting word. Someone at Bracha’s school introduces her to the word, the blighted teacher, probably, and then soon Kindergarten is her favourite. It stings the first time, Kindergarten is her favourite, Miss Jessa is her favourite, but then Lara is her favourite, Eirlana is her favourite, Daven is her favourite, rocks are her favourite, animal-shaped cookies are her favourite... Dorian is pretty sure that she doesn’t know what the word actually means, and he calms down. A little.

But Kindergarten teaches her many things, not just new words, but new skills. He still won’t admit it, but when she comes back with letter recognition and blends, reading sight words and rhyming word families, when she starts counting in three languages and subitizes the numbers on the dice during board game night, when she tells him a story one night and evaluates that the problem in it was solved by sharing without any prompting, he starts to think that maybe Kindergarten is actually doing her some good. Soon, she figures out that with ‘favourite‘ you can have as many as you can come up with categories, and so the obsession continues.

Bracha loves to tell anyone who will listen, and with even more enthusiasm ask in turn, about favourites. It makes for surprisingly stimulating dinner conversation. The entire family learns many things about one another. From favourite colours (Bracha’s is rainbow, Dorian’s is green because black isn’t a colour, and Taren’s is also rainbow), to favourite foods (Bracha’s is waffles, Dorian’s is something he had once in Antiva but can’t remember the name of, made better by its unattainable mystique, and Taren’s is soup, which is cheating because anything can be soup — this argument takes up all of dinner, and by the end of it his favourite is determined to actually be pumpkin pie.), to more substantial questions like “what is your favourite day” (clarified to be as in ever in the history of ever — they all pick her birthday), and “what is your favourite book” which all of them flatly refuse to answer.

Dorian learns things he never thought to learn about his husband. His favourite flowers are pink heather, his favourite fish is starfish, his favourite animal is a blackbear, his favourite shirt is the one Dorian gave him three Satinalia’s ago and his favourite number is twelve. He winks at Dorian like it hasn’t always been. Dorian also finds himself taking stock of things he never has before; considering his favourite socks — knitted by Auntie Dee, obviously, his favourite toy — a duck he had when he was little, and hasn’t thought about since, his favourite colour of apples — after determining which, he starts buying the green ones more. She asks for some truly bizare determinations too, such as his favourite sense; Kindergarten went to the science museum that day, so he takes the teachable moment to say proprioception and then teach her the hidden-hand trick, because he needs to solidify that he is still smarter than Miss Jessa.

He learns that Bracha likes green apples too, and that she knows because they did an experiment at school where they tried all the different ones and filled out a graph, that her favourite toy is the bear he got her the day they took her home (though he knew that already, its name is Chauncy and it follows her everywhere), her favourite socks were also knitted by Auntie Dee and they are her favourite because they are rainbow, and her favourite sense is definitely proprioception — she cannot wait to tell Miss Jessa about it. When he puts her to bed, he reads her her favourite story, which they’ve agreed is a designation that can rotate each week, and she points out all the sight words. (Her favourite sight word is “no” — she doesn’t declare this, of course, but considering how often the five year old uses it, Dorian can’t be fooled.) When she is sleepy and slumping, her head nodding into her pillow, she reaches up towards his face and pulls his cheek into a kiss, before he can finish the tale.

“Thanks daddy,” she mumbles, and it squishes into him like a hug every damn time, “you’re my favourite.”

“What about papa?” he smiles softly, returning the kiss with the softest scold — it’s probably not okay to let her pick favourites — and she nods, eyes closing as he pulls the covers up over her.

“Papa is my favourite too. Miss Jessa says you can have lots of favourite people, it’s not like colours.” she says, then opening her eyes with a sudden thought, she adds “and actually, you can have lots of favourite colours,” very seriously. Dorian nods in serious agreement.

“Okay,” he says, “then you and papa are my favourite too.”

In the living room, after he tells him of this new rule to the game of favourites, Taren resoundingly agrees.

#listen I teach kindergarten #and I am having a bad day #so you get kindergarten fluff #my fic #modern au #pavellan #domestic fluff #sometimes you just.......gotta #I'm having a childcare moment don't mind me

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