#he made a fake out dorian gray

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Sometimes I just think about how Alexander made the party try to defend Oscar Wilde from kidnnappers and named the negociator Dorian. So everyone was like "this is clearly a Dorian Gray reference this has to be a very strong and powerfull man" and were all on edge only for Hamid to very easily kill him and Alex just go "he was just a guy named Dorian, there is actual soldiers outside, he was just a negotiator, completly normal guy, nothing especial."

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Stories:

The Tooth Fairy (prequel)

Yandere Serial Killer x GN Reader

A bracelet made of pearly, white incisors was placed under your pillow. Silver wire intricately held each tooth in place to form a grotesque version of jewelry. A mockery of the silver bracelet that had recently gone missing under your nose.

A bit of dried blood on the crown of the two teeth which brought a shiver down your spine. Who on earth would bring you such macabre tokens of affection?

You sighed and analyzed the bracelet. This was the fifth piece of handmade jewelry, if you could call it that, in the last few months.

You placed it with the other trinkets on your dresser. A pair of earrings made of human canines and a necklace made with various premolars and molars. And now you had a matching bracelet for your grotesque jewelry from your secret admirer.

You glanced at your window that had the lock obviously tampered with. Whoever they were, they always managed to break in without your knowledge. Were you still waking up and that was why you were so nonchalant about it? Or was it your fascination with serial killers that made you less inclined to notify the police of your… growing collection.

You rubbed your temple as you felt an impending headache grasp you in its hold. No… you couldn’t reject them. Gods only knew what they’d do if you reject them. Kill you? Pull your teeth out one by one? Torture you? You didn’t want to find out, so you became an unwilling accomplice to this matters individuals scheme. Whatever that may be.

You began to get ready for work at the dentist office but not before you checked your reflection.

Your fingers poked at the corners of your mouth to turn your lips into a smile. Your teeth now on display in this fake display of happiness, the perfect costumer service face.

“Smile…” Because you never know who was watching you.

.

.

.

You sat at your desk with your signature customer service smile and sugar sweet voice. A smile that never quite reached your eyes, but it got the point across to the various customers that came in for their dental appointments.

Another day in your other wise boring life save for the obtuse way you handled your stalker. Perhaps you should buy a gun? You’ve never fired a firearm before so you’d need training…

“Good morning!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when the dentist, Dorian Zimmerman, placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus, Dorian! You scared me.” You clutched your chest as your heart nearly escaped from your chest. An amused smile on his face as he eyed you up and down.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so lost in thought.” Dorian shrugged while he scanned the list for every patient. “Will there ever be a day I see you on this list?”

You shook your head. “No, I still go to my family dentist.”

Dorian sighed, “a shame. I’d love to look at your pretty teeth.”

Dorian sauntered off, but not before he cast you one last look. “Can you stay over a bit today? I have something for you.”

“Okay.” You agreed, there was nothing weird about the dentist asking you to stay over, right?

Dorian expression lit up like the sun. “Great. I’ll see you then.”

He then ducked around the bend to get back to his customers. You then diligently went back to your front desk duties.

“He has such pretty teeth.” You whispered to yourself before you noticed a man in all black in front of your desk. “Oh hello, do you have an appointment?”

The tanned man clicked his tongue, his gray eyes glanced you up and down. “Yes. My name is Zahn. Zahn Pain.”

Oh, it seemed you had an edge lord on your hands. But perhaps you were making assumptions based on his gothic appearance and prominent eye bags. His choice of jewelry was rather interesting as well… various animal teeth and crystals were parts of his necklaces, rings, and even earrings.

“Ah yes, your appointment is in about fifteen minutes-“ you were shocked when he placed his face closer to the glass, his eyes locked you in place like a predator staring down his prey.

“Do you like the dentist’s teeth?” Zahn muttered, his hands shook a bit while his face remained unreadable and stoic.

“Oh? Doctor Zimmerman has to have nice teeth to show his clients.” You nervously laugh which made Zahn back down. Why was he so strange?

Zahn hummed and shoved his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. “I think your teeth are prettier since they’re not veneers. Have more personality.”

You thought for a moment. You hadn’t realized Dorian had veneers… which would explain their uncanny valley perfection. Zahn was surprising observant.

The gothic boy took a seat far away from the other patients in the very back of the lobby that had the perfect view of your desk. His gray eyes bore holes in your head while you continued to work.

You just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that pooled in your stomach…

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

UPDATED 1/29/24

this was inspired by @lubble-underscore's post and I decided to expand on the iceberg and see how much I could throw on it

thanks to the Discord server for filling in on things that didn't cross my mind! :D

feel free to save and highlight what you know :3 Links to many of these things are below - some are not tho!

Tier 1 - do we even need to SAY anything?

pathetic little meow meow

bisexual

unreliable narrator

Tier 2 - surface level/easy to see

superiority/inferiority complex

bitchsexual (i mean... points to commodus)

raised chiron (see CHB Confidential)

Tier 3 - complete read-through/reread; taking first steps into fandom

breaks cycle of abuse

polldona

great with kids, actually (see Harley, Georgie, ect.)

ordered pizza to chb (see The Hidden Oracle)

domains contradict

best godly parent

still heavily affected by past lovers (see The Whole Series)

Tier 4 - digging a little deeper

love life isn't actually terrible

definitely tried to bang frey at least once (see that One throwaway line in The Hidden Oracle)

malewife malewhore manslaughter

broke up the beatles because paul jilted him (Discord)

sees the faces of primordial gods (see The Hidden Oracle)

copollo could have worked

catboy but cats are competition (See The Tyrant's Tomb; submitted by @trials-of-apollo-my-beloved)

freakishly high pain tolerance (See THE ENTIRE SERIES)

Tier 5 - holy shit we're on to something

that apollo & jesus fic (Discord)

knew hades had kids in TTC

pressured to be the perfect son

fatal flaw is love

not as close to hermes as he used to be

seahorsed kayla

patron of CHB

roman apollo au (Discord: Creator chronictheorizing)

Tier 6 - wait what. OH!

was forced to punish halcyon green

deathsong (Discord: Creator @txny-dragon) (addition)

kids are greek & roman

michael yew is most like him

brings change by being his true self and not the fake one (Submitted by @/txny-dragon)

laomedon is why he hates slavery (Discord: Creator @ukelele-boy)

intentionally made the orientation video to communicate info on the gods

Tier 7 - what the fuck did we get ourselves into

directed travis & conner to tartarus tongs

Apollo x Orion is peek hateship (Discord: Origin in Tsari's server during Eclipse)

unlocked heavenly prophecy powers during trials

dated oscar wilde and inspired the picture of dorian gray (Discord)

half-titan theory

tartarus regenerated him

imperial kids were meant to usurp the olympians

Tier 8 - we're in too deep but will never come out

knows estelle is omen of end of the world

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

Hello! It’s me again with your daily Wesper thoughts. I think I could write a short essay about the contrast between Jesper’s usual arrogance and bravado and to how flustered and unsure of himself he can get around Wylan. After he realizes he has romantic feelings for Wylan (I mark this as That Face he makes when Wy is playing piano), he’s so awkward around Wylan. His typical confidence is absent. It’s like when faced with something so real, Jesper doesn’t know how to fake it anymore.

Hello! You`re always welcome in my askbox😊

Exactly! Jesper is shocked by the power of his feelings for Wylan and by their realness. He can`t brush them off, he can`t get away from them. They have changed him - or rather not changed but brought out the parts of him that remained half-hidden for a long time.

Jesper is a loving, caring and loyal person, and it shows in his relationship with Kaz and Inej - especially with Inej. She`s essentially his beloved sister - he absolutely adores her, and he`s going to miss her terribly. But Jesper is also a gambler, used to win a lot today and lose more tomorrow. He`s not exactly holding on to much in 'the chaos of Barrel life'. That`s not to say he wouldn`t do his damnedest to protect Kaz or Inej should the need arise - he totally would. He`d die for them, in fact.

And here`s how his relationship with Wylan is different. He would die for him, yes. The thing is he doesn`t want to. He wants to live for him. Dying is easy in Jesper`s world where risk and danger are all around. Living - daring to be happy and doing everything to make your special one happy as well - is way harder. And for Wylan Jesper is willing to try.

It`s enough to look at the way he holds him - often with both hands, often clutching Wylan instinctively. A gambler who has finally found what he isn`t willing to put on the line.

The 4th gif is by @dramaism

It’s like when faced with something so real, Jesper doesn’t know how to fake it anymore. - This made me think of what Sybil Vane said to Dorian Gray: 'I thought that it was all true... I believed in everything... I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real. You came—oh, my beautiful love!— and you freed my soul from prison. You taught me what reality really is... You had made me understand what love really is... I might mimic a passion that I do not feel, but I cannot mimic one that burns me like fire'.

Of course, Jesper is no Sybil and Wylan is no Dorian. Yet, the general sentiment is somewhat similar, I believe, - maybe not so grandiose as the poor girl makes it sound but deep and true nevertheless.

Also, Halo by Beyonce is a Wesper song, change my mind.

It's like I've been awakened Every rule I had you breakin' It's the risk that I'm takin' I ain't never gonna shut you out - are you kidding me?😍

Love is a terrible force - and a beautiful one, what`s more to say.

[appendectomy]

19th century art history dashboard simulator

🎨 jameswh1stler Follow

hey guyssss some new paintings :) kinda focusing more on painting technique than message or symbolism or anything. lmk what u think

📖 ruskin1819 Follow

delete your account FLOP

🎨 jameswh1stler Follow

check your mailbox

📖 ruskin1819 Follow

IS THAT A FUCKING COURT SUMMONS??????

#WHAT THE FUCK...

1.7k notes

🫀 girlhedonism Follow

my beautiful daughters laudanum and chloral hydrate

#opium isnt a drug shes like a brother to me

2 notes

📚 sexytruecrime Follow based on your likes!

started reading conan doyle like you all suggested. anyone else getting a bit of a gay vibe from holmes and watson or is that just me

#penelope reads #serious question like im sensing tension. am i crazy

6.8k notes

🔪 jacktheripper-beatdown Follow

JACK THE RIPPER BEATDOWN - FINAL ROUND

who do you think is the TRUE identity of infamous serial killer jack the ripper? FINAL ROUND - vote now!

🖼️ camdentownmurders Follow

ohhhhh my god i hate all of you. just because sickert made paintings that were MAYBE about murder doesn't actually mean he was a murderer. fiction ≠ reality.

🫀 girlhedonism Follow

i'm voting lewis carroll anyway bc im praying on his downfall. carroll you will never be charles dickens

#polls #SICKERT SWEEP

10.3k notes

🔮 evelyndemorgan Follow

im so clearpilled its insane me and my husband regularly commune with the spirit realm if youre not on the occult wave at this point youre just ignoring the facts right in front of you

#result of an experiment #clearpilled #spiritmaxxing

14 notes

✨ lesbianbasilhallward Follow based on your likes!

my dealer: i've got some straight gas this strain is called 'the picture of dorian gray' you'll be zonked out of your gourd

me: yeah whatever. i don't feel shit

5 minutes later: dude did that painting's face just change to reflect the inner corruption of my mortal soul

my buddy Lord Henry Wotton, pacing: sybil vane is lying to us

#this came to me in a dream #oscar wilde

420 notes

🐑 holmanhunt-art Follow

thinking of displaying this at the royal academy this year. yes or no

📖 ruskin1819 Follow

you're a great painter but why did you make sylvia fucking ugly in this. serious question

🧝🏼‍♀️lizziesiddal Follow

i'm going to blow up this whole website

2.1k notes

🌿 williammorrisandco Follow

i've been getting a lot of asks recently telling me im a fake leftist bc my art is expensive and people are accusing me of catering to a bourgeois sense of materialism... you guys clearly don't care about my involvement in actual socialist causes or my contribution to marxist publications but whatever

👁️ socialism101 Follow

girl didnt friedrich thee engels literally say you were delusional. i think youre just going to have to take the L on this one

🌿 williammorrisandco Follow

at least i actually know engels??? stop replying like you actually know anything about him and focus on yourself. me and him are on good terms

👁️ socialism101 Follow

uh huh sure. so him regarding you as an impractical 'sentimental socialist' means nothing. ok then

#discourse

3.5k notes

👼🏼 williamblake69 Follow

first base philisophical debate about the industrialist scourge destroying england second base i introduce you to the polycule

#is this anything

6.9k notes

[new-kanon]

EXTREME SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE WEB SERIES MY POLYCULE & HOUSEMATES & GODDAUGHTERS WILL BE FILMING! IF YOU WANT TO UNCOVER THE SECRET LORE IN TIME WITH EVERYONE ELSE ONCE IT'S RELEASED DO NOT VIEW!

We begin with our brightly colored Jewish/Rrma paranormal investigator played Alford, a pastel grunge softboy on his way to investigate the source of the strange and bloody past of this forgotten Bay Arean neighborhood. Does he have a personal interest or just curious? Hmm.

The "Black Miasma" has plagued this town for generations, the spiritual dark force that causes the many disappearances and serial killings, supposed stemming from the mansion uptop the hill. Where an Intersexed half Native witch Bride and their satanic Husband made human sacrifices before being entombed within its walls by the villagefolk. Yet that's only half true.

Now inhabited by immortals, who through black magic and dark science, cheated death: a Romani witch assassin and her German Mad Scientist husband, taking refuge here after fleeing Europe for their human experiments. Together, they nursed a Southern werewolf, Seb, and Jewish/Arab vampire, Ali, back to health after finding them fighting till exhaustion near the boundary line - and can not tell if the two are enemies, exs, or a romantic couple in a long standing fight to this day. They more or less adopt the two.

Upon the arrival of Alford, who is welcomed warmly, the wall behind the painting of the Bride's corpse-like face (originally a beautiful portrait, a la Dorian Gray), is identified as the source of the Miasma. Upon removing a bricked up wall, akin to The Cask of Amontillado, the they find Bride, now a Vessel to their husband's Eldritch God, having been sealed away alive and now white-of-hair + technically a corpse animated by possession - who reclaims the estate as their own.

Upon releasement, the most recent victim of the Black Miasma, a slasher of the neighborhood, a lovestruck outcast who was killed in a prank and buried in the woods near the Estate a year ago, turns from his final girl, who's fake date with him caused his death, and walks towards the House Upon The Hill, to heed his Mistress and Master's call, now their obsessive lover & religious devotee.

Bound by a Priest of the True Sevenfold God, the Black Miasma took and fed without care, as it's master was locked away. Now, those under their true influence are dark vigilantes, fed by the lingering consciousness of the Vessel's Soul, wanting revenge for how they were wronged by man and false romantic promise at a very young age, feeding upon the flesh of abusers.

Together, the pastel punk paranormal investigator, more or less held hostage here, the Roma witch, her German Dr Frankenstein wannabe, their Muslim vampire & Texan werewolf adopted idiots to lovers, & the Eldritch + their new Yandere Proxy hunt down bad folk among the neighborhood, aid in protection on both sides of the Mundane and Supernatural.

The Pastel Jewitch is more than just a Sillycore Bluejay in a found family of Corvids. Ultimately a "Happypasta Proxy" in the making.

Ali is immune to most traditional vampire banes as they stem from Catholicism.

Almost everyone is a cannibal. Most are technically unalive. Everyone is queer.

The Twins (played by my German and French Ginger Goddaughters) are Redrum-esque psychic followers of the Eldritch one, killers in the making. Pusgley & Wednesday coded, but goes both ways.

The Vessel's consciousness is still lingering & its a slow burn with Eldritch emotionally dead bitch & lovesick clingy stalker slasher, causing their heart to beat again.

Someone is a traitor, in league with the historical Villagers' agenda & the True Sevenfold Church, out to snuff all magic out.

Slice of Life ultimately meets Monster of the Week meets Apocalypse.

[sweetcathedral]

Greed & Salvation

Note: Just a rough excerpt from an ongoing short story, slightly inspired by The Picture of Dorian Gray and Tender is the Flesh. I was also feeling a bit manic, but thinking about Bonten and how they would be in real life always makes me feel manic. Enjoy!

Pairing: Bonten Takeomi X fem!reader (OC)

⚠️: Although there’s no sexual theme or any mention of anything sexual, there’s emotional and physical abuse (not romanticized), drugging (not romanticized, functional purpose), graphic violence & soft horror.

Oh, here we go again.

“Are you here to tempt me again?”

Takeomi is met with the black goat in his dream again.

“I’m not here to tempt you, I’m simply speaking what you’re about to do.”

“Sounds more like you want me to do it.”

“The only reason why it sounds like that is because that’s exactly what you’re about to do—you plan to keep her that way, don’t you.”

“It’s the only way to keep an artist a genius.”

“She was already a genius before you made her worse. Do you even know her name?” The fog around them gathered in the center and materialized into thick oak roots that grew from the ground and weaved itself together to create a round table, decorated with complimentary leaves, lush, green and full of life. “Take a seat.” The goat points at an empty space, roots emerge from the ground and vines of oak twisted itself into a chair.

It’s true. Takeomi doesn’t know her name, he never asked or bothered to know. He referred to her by her pronouns and people would know who he was talking about, so it never occurred to him that she could possibly have a name. All he could vaguely remember was how he met her.

“No, why would her name matter?”

“Maybe if you could at least learn her name, then you’ll find some other way for her to paint like she does now.”

“Every successful artist that has made their mark in history has had individualized trauma that made them create works worth their price now—”

“So the more insane they are, the better the works? Is that what you’re saying? That great artists are born out of insanity?”

Insanity…

The word weighed heavier coming out from its mouth, its voice sounded disgusted and Takeomi felt like he angered the goat.

“It sounds shitty, but yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“You’d fit in with the demons in hell,” said neither seriously nor jokingly.

“I’m sure I’d make one hell of a prince too,” Takeomi chuckled, trying to make light of the conversation.

Without remembering, they were already seated at the table. The branches had weaved up a wine glass, plate, spoon, fork and knife, awaiting to be filled with whatever is about to be served. There was a gut feeling that Takeomi shouldn’t eat what’s being offered, but he ignored his intuition since he knew all this was just a dream.

“Then you should eat like a prince too, help yourself,” the goat gestures its hoof to Takeomi’s plate.

He looked back down to see that his glass and plate had been filled without disruption. The aromatic red wine complimented the light scent of the medium rare steak that felt more appetizing than the Michelin star meals he had before. It was garnished with some sort of sweet, yet savoury, sauce. The scent gave out what it tasted like before he even took a bite. On the opposite end, the goat sat itself down, naturally like it was a human, but his wine glass was overfilled with something dark red. The texture of it slowly spilled down the sides, pooling around the base of the glass all thick and sticky like.

Takeomi looked back down at his untouched plate and glass, waiting for the goat to sip his “wine” first. Its plate is still empty.

“Cheers.” The goat’s hoof stretched into the shape of a human hand, but with the same texture of the hoof. “To a new prince of hell.” It took up its wine between its oddly unnatural fingers.

Takeomi held up his wine in courtesy and faked a sip, only letting the red liquid touch his lips, waiting for the goat to gulp his glass. After seeing the goat greedily finish its glass in one sip, he felt comfortable enough to take a generous sip out of his glass.

“You should eat your steak before it gets too cold to eat.”

“It’s rude to eat before the host.”

“Mine will take a while to prepare, so please, start without me.”

Takeomi still felt uncomfortable taking a bite before it, but it was watching him with an unavoidable gaze that pressured him to eat, so he did. With a hesitating bite, he chewed through the steak with ease, feeling the flavours melt on his tongue.

“Oh, wow, I’ve never had a steak this good before.”

“I know, hence why I specifically had you eat it.”

Its words didn’t sound right.

Takeomi swallowed the steak and met the goat’s eyes, its black rectangular pupils almost smiled in the pool of gold. Then he saw its plate.

There, Takeomi was met with his head on the goat’s platter.

His eyelids were unevenly stitched closed and tightly with how the skin warped around the black twine. His lips were sewn shut as well in the same manner.

Takeomi began to cough.

“Choking so soon?”

Black liquid started to ooze out of Takeomi’s mouth, fighting to catch his breath as he started to vomit chunks of the liquid onto his plate.

“You should really be careful with what you eat.”

The goat spoke in an unfazed manner as it sliced a sliver of Takeomi’s cheek from his stitched head, tilting its horns back to swallow the piece without chewing.

Tears ran down Takeomi’s face, clawing at his throat to stop vomiting. It was out of his control that even breathing felt impossible to do in this dream. Something lodged in his lungs felt like it was crawling out from his throat, the pain was unbearable that he was able to claw his chest open, hearing the crack of his rib cage open up as he desperately tore his lungs open. All the blood, bones, flesh, black liquid stained his nails and hands, he didn’t expect tearing your own flesh apart to feel like molding clay. It couldn’t be possible, but he was able to breathe again. Except, when he looked down to see the flesh of his torn lungs and broken ribs spill out from him, he saw the same roots that made the table and cutlery twisted around his beating heart.

Next thing he knew, the roots shot throughout his body, through his mouth, ears, eyes, until he was nothing but a blood-stained oak tree.

Takeomi shot up from his bed, panting in a rush and patting himself down to feel for anything unusual. He even unbuttoned his shirt to see that his chest was fine and not torn. Even though it was a dream, there are times where it’d feel too real.

He reached for his phone to see that it was 3:12 in the morning.

The sound of glass shattering rang through the hallway.

Takeomi bolted out of his room towards the sound that came from her room. Upon unlocking it, he saw that the potted bonsai tree had been shattered and he shuddered at the sight of the familiar roots. He scans the room to find her crouched in the corner by the window, clutching the curtain over her.

“What happened?” Takeomi approaches her.

She was mumbling something, but he couldn’t hear her.

He closes the curtain, pulling it out of her grasp, feeling the tension of her fingers loosen. She doesn’t look away or react to Takeomi’s movements, instead she keeps blankly staring straight ahead without blinking, mumbling to herself.

“I need you to get to bed.”

She doesn’t budge or turn his way.

Takeomi sighs and bends down to pick her up.

“...paint that…”

“What?” Takeomi leans in closer to her.

“I didn’t paint that.”

He pulls away from her and looks down to see her finger pointing towards something.

Takeomi turns to see some of her brushes sprawled throughout the floor under the moonlight, but there was something else he couldn’t see. A white canvas is easy to see, even without the lights, so why was it dark like a void?

He turns the lights on.

Not only were the brushes sprawled all over the floor, but so were the paints. The tubes were torn open with some brushes shoved in them as if scooping them out. He could make out a spot on the floor that was used as a palette area, dollops of paint sat near each other in an imperfect circle. Even the walls got stained with paint.

The bonsai tree that he thought just fell had parts of its roots torn apart. He looked around the area and saw a huge chunk of the roots at the corner of the canvas, coated in black and a dark burgundy red paint. That’s when Takeomi looked up to see the whole painting.

“What—what the fuck is this?”

Takeomi felt a lump in his throat, he was too angry to stand there horrified. Was he being mocked? Is she making fun of him? Or is this a dream too?

Against the abstract dark red background was the same goat he saw in his dreams, except its eyes were gouged out that oozed blood and had a human-like smile. Its chest had been clawed out, exactly how Takeomi clawed out his chest, its blood, flesh and bones splattered over the edge of the oak table. The heart wrapped in roots, patterns of the bonsai roots stamped and blended in the background, the singular bite on the steak, all of it was a painted summary of Takeomi’s dream.

“How did you paint that, huh?” He whipped the near-empty paint tubes at the window beside her, a splatter of excess paint stains the glass. She doesn’t flinch.

“I didn’t—”

He strides towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders and violently shaking her.

“Why did you paint that?!”

Her breathing began to quicken in short breaths.

“I DIDN’T PAINT IT!”

“Takeomi!”

Mochi, Koko and Ran rushed into the room. Takeomi didn’t even hear them enter the house. He turns back to her, seeing that he had grabbed her forcefully enough to lift her on her feet. He wanted to rip her head open, scrambling through the flesh of her fragile brain for answers, but a wave of fatigue had washed over him when the calling of his name snapped him back to reality. Instead he just felt irritated.

I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t—

Takeomi leans into her ear. “You disgust me.” Then shoves her against the wall.

She doesn’t fight back, nor winces at him anymore, only glares back at him. It was better than her situation before, so she’s used to it. Mochizuki crouches down and puts out his hand to her. She reluctantly takes it and is led back to her room where Mochi drugs her back to sleep with Sanzu’s pills, and locks her in.

“Omi, how did she open the door from the inside?”

“I don’t know, I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he runs his hands over his face to keep him awake enough to walk back to his room.

Ran stares at the painting in awe, a hand covers his mouth, hiding his manic smile that reminded Takeomi of Sanzu.

“What the hell happened here?”

Koko examines the mess in the room and steps around with caution.

“I’m too tired to explain.” He waves off Koko with a hand. “Just get that painting out of my sight.”

[myliobatis]

killers show report wheeee

first show of the na tour baybee and I bought the tickets in 2020!!!

got GA floor tickets bc last time we were way in the back of the stands with a bunch of buzzkills and it was the precipitating event for my Never Get Anything But GA At A Rock Concert policy. SO worth it

opener:

Johnny Marr with a backing band singing presumably his solo stuff? I don’t actually know which songs

good vibes, no morrisey, what more do you want really

killers:

opening with my own souls warning worked surprisingly well

then enterlude into when you were young YESSSS I love enterlude!!! holly was mad they didn’t play exitlude at the end of the main set but I didn’t even realize

dustland fairytale my beloved

nobody knows the words to the b-sides off imploding the mirage lol

only one song (runaway horses) from pressure machine which. Yeah. That album was not meant for a stadium show it would have absolutely killed the vibe

brandon flowers has hardly aged (besides losing the baby face) in the last 20 years I think. Wtf where is his dorian gray portrait. Also his teeth are very shiny, last time we were WAY in the back so that sort of detail was invisible

brought marr on for two smiths songs w Brandon singing which I was like whatever about

since it was a stadium show they had cameras for the big screens plus he display behind the band, and they did SUCH a great job with them! it added to the experience instead of just plain displaying it, and there was obviously an Artistic Vision that worked really well

during the encore they pulled up a guy with a “can I drum?” sign and… let him? and it was good?!? this was on read my mind

closing the encore w mr brightside an otherworldly experience ofc BUT they faked us out lmao, started it with a weird version that kinda sucked and then did The Real Deal

overall just super high energy, really engaged with the crowd, so FUN

misc

so many mistakes in my wardrobe lol. cutoffs nearly fell off several times. feet VERY sore from bouncing in converse on concrete for three hours. kind of distracting but not that bad really

sweaty. so so sweaty. my makeup ran and then I got a blue slurpee to ease my screamed-out throat and the blue lips and makeup smudges made me look dead it was freaky

God I love a confetti cannon they make me SO happy

my fave band 💕💕💕 such a good show, sooo happy we went

[pandora-morningstar]

Ikemen vampire oc: Oscar Wilde

This is my version of ikemen vampire Oscar Wilde. He is aesthetically pleasing and perfect but like the main character in his only novel it's just how a mask he wears to hide his true self. Saint Germain felt pity when he met him and brought him back to the manor as a vampire, to say Arthur and Dazai where not pleased was an understatement.

Here are some headcannons:

Oscar is incredibly interverted, unlike his past self. He has have someone with him when he goes out, it's usually Vincent or Jean.

If he sees a copy of The picture of Dorian Gray, he will have a very strong reaction. It's somewhere between a panic attack and a emotional breakdown.

His pet chinchilla is called Basil

Oscar goes by a fake name, ironically it's Dorian, a woman said he looked like the character he made for his book so he just went with it even though he hates it.

He's very good with kids, having two in his previous life. He sometimes goes with Napoleon and Issac to teach the children, he teaches them how to read and write.

The first week he was at the manor, everyone thought he was lazy until they heard him screaming and found him trying to crawl for help. When sat on a chair he explained that he has extreme back trauma from the hard labor he had to do during his prison sentence. Saint Germain got him a male corset to help with the pain and his posture.

He likes listening to Mozart's music it calms him down

Oscar has helped Jean learn to read and write, he like to help People

He's close to another writer in the manor

That's it for Oscar Wilde, I'll be doing Mark Twain next

[they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon]

Broken Glass

Sirius x Reader - Angst to Fluff

Words: 3052

A/n: Dialogue heavey. This is the first time in a while I've written post-azkaban Sirius

You never liked this goddamn house, well, never is the wrong word.

You USED to love this house It was full of life Love Colourful  Bright Happy

It was a home

But not anymore like the flip of a switch, the home you once loved turned into a building. Some walls and a roof. That night when Lily and James died your world changed, your husband, Sirius got sent to Azkaban he killed some of your closest friends.

Although part of you knew he didn’t do it, he would never betray them but when the whole wizarding world is talking about him “Sirius Orion Black murder” “Working for he who shall not be named”

It wore you down, you went from defending him, telling people there’s no way it was him to pushing it aside, not only was everything you knew and loved was ripped from you just the cherry on top Dumbledore wouldn’t let you care for Harry “It’s too dangerous” “He can’t grow up in this world, he’s not ready” you disagreed. 

Not only for Harry to keep him safe and loved. But partly for yourself, he was the last bit of hope you had but with that final no you smashed like glass.

Remus had vanished, he left without a word. You spent 13 years doing the same thing, eating, sleeping, staring at the roof of the house or at the cafe you worked at. It was a muggle one, It was a break from the world you knew just for a moment you could feel in control, no one knew your past. Yes, you still lived in the wizarding world but that cafe It was a place that was yours.

But like all good things to It got smashed, like the cup of coffee you just dropped

Remus John Lupin

Was in your cafe

“Hey... y/n, how are you?” He asked awkwardly and gave you a sympathetic smile, clearly concerned. He looked so tired. Although you couldn’t care less, at least that's what you told yourself, there were a million things you wanted to say Instead.

“I’m sorry sir, I’ll clean that up and get you a new cup” you give a faint smile walking behind the counter and grabbing a broom and a rag, cleaning up the broken glass without speaking to him, grabbing his new coffee, one of your co-workers made while you cleaned the floor and brought it over to him, giving a half-real smile

“Terribly sorry sir”  “Y/n…” “Is there something you need?” You turn, pulling out your notepad as if about to take an order “I need to talk to you” “I don’t have much time to talk, as I’m working, have a good day”

Remus sat in the cafe for the rest of your shift ordering a new coffee every so often as he read It was a newspaper. The front page had an image of Sirius yelling the headline

“Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban!”

You felt like crying, you suddenly were very aware of the cold taps on your chest when you walked. From your wedding ring, you’d taken it off, not being able to bear not having it on, you couldn't not have it with you. It felt wrong. So you put it through a small chain and held it near your heart.

Why did he have to come in and bring back so much you had worked 13 years to forget, you pushed all your thoughts away and focused on coffee and cold shitty pastries.

After what felt like an eternity your shift ended taking off your apron and grabbing your jacket. Saying quick goodbyes and “see you laters” sneaking out the back door, trying to avoid Remus.

You start walking home, the late sunset wind calming you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling someone was following you and you knew who that someone would be. Remus. Stopping in your tracks with a sigh “Remus, stop stalking me, it’s creepy”

“I'm not stalking you, I’m following behind you without you knowing” You stiffen at his words it was a phrase you used to say at Hogwarts “Y/n, I need to talk to you”

“I don’t care, Remus, you show up at my work, after 13 years of leaving me without a letter, not even a goodbye and now, you want to talk to me” You raise your eyebrows placing your hands on your hips

“Y/n, you don’t understand- ” “Yeah I don’t, and honestly I don’t want to understand” you emphasize, you just wanted to sleep

“Sirius escaped from Azkaban”

“I know, I saw on the paper you were reading. Are we done I wanna go to my house”

“He’s at Grimmauld Place” Remus continued

“Good for him” You give an uncaring face, in reality, you did care. You cared a lot

“You know he didn’t do it...Right?”

“Remus! I don’t care, I don’t care about any of this anymore!” You yell at him “Good night” You turn on your heel walking back to your house tears pricking at your eyes. You knew the moment you're in the house they would fall. As you guessed right when you stepped inside the tears broke. You slam the door shut crumbling against it.

You felt like a china cabinet fell on you, something brooms and rags wouldn’t be able to clean, you couldn’t just get another cup. Your eyes felt heavy, not bothered to move. Or rather. Not motivated enough to even think about moving, you end up passing out on the floor. Thank merlin you don’t have work tomorrow.

You wake up with a sore neck and back ‘why couldn’t I have at least gone to the couch’ you go about your normal boring routine. Shower, dress, looked for breakfast but remember you have barely any food as you have been having uber eats for the past month and a bit

Cause fuck going to the shopping centre

You sat down on your couch intending on sitting there all day and watching Netflix you put on 

‘Dorian Gray’ (😉) you got about 10 minutes in when there’s a knock on the door. Sighing you pause the movie to get the door expecting it to be the little girl next door who gives you a painted rock every Saturday morning, opening the door with a kind smile even though it’s very fake since she’s like 5 she doesn’t know the concept of fake smiling

“Hi sweetheart- “ It’s not the sweet girl next door quite the opposite. It's a tall adult man. Remus was at your door “Nope” was all you said slamming the door shut “Y/n...Please open the door” “Go away” You call sitting back on the couch and playing the movie hoping he would leave but you forgot. This is Remus we’re talking about he’s not going to give up that easy

“Y/n...I need to talk to you” You ignore him “I know you can hear me” Nothing

“Alohomora” Remus says and the door opens. He walks into the lounge seeing you standing up wand pointed at him

“Breaking in is illegal you know, ha what am I saying, you know all about illegal behaviour”

“Y/n I need your help”

“You have the order at your fingertips, you don’t need me I’m not stupid” you glare at him, so done with this mess “I know you're not, you're one of the smartest people I know. But this isn’t for me. This is for Harry”

You lower your wand “What happened to Harry?” “So much, but before I tell you. I’m assuming you’d want to see him?”

“Yes please,” You said quickly

“Come” He offered his arm so you could apparate together. In a blink, you were in a hallway. one you knew, you were in the Black family's house

“Harry!” Remus called heading footsteps down the stairs until Harry was in front of you and Remus

“Harry this is y/n...Your godmother” “Wait...Really?” You smile and nodded, after a silence that killed you

“Why didn’t you take me in?” Harry mumbled  “I tried to, Dumbledore had other plans but I’m here now” You had tears chipping in the corner of your eyes yet were willing them not to fall

“You probably hear this every five seconds, but you look so much like them Harry, but your eyes”

“I have my mother's eyes, I know”

You chuckle “You do, but that’s not what I was going to say” He tilted his head slightly  “I can see James in your eyes”

His eyes widen slightly, tears pricking at the corners like yours.

“You have this spark, one he carried every day, it was always there, it got a bit brighter when he was about to do something stupid, funny and clever, but stupid. One of his master pranks” Your tears fell thinking about it as did Harry’s “He never lost that spark, now it’s your turn to keep it going”

“How well did you know my parents?” He questioned “Lily was my best friend” You let out a breathe like laugh “And she always will be”

“Can you tell me about them?” He said in a small voice “Happily” You smile

“The lounge is just there, I’ve got some boring things to do” Remus smiles motioning to the room across from the hall Harry nods walking there. You turn to Remus first 

“Thank you” You smile at him, the first real smile in a long time. You go catch up to Harry and sit next to Harry on one of the couches. Unluckily, it was with the portrait of Walburga right as you sit down she pipes up

“How dare you enter my home, you’re a disgrace to the wizarding world. I thought I told you never to step foot in my home the last time you were here!”

“Pleasure to see you as always Walburga” She starts yelling again

“Can it, you old hag” You pull out your wand and do a quick spell to muffle her screaming

“I’ll take it off later” You wink at Harry “Now, James”

“Can you tell me about his pranks?”

“Oh, merlin, which one” You laugh “Hm. What about the time where he got the entire Gryffindor tower in detention?”

“How did he manage that!” His eyes widen like his smile, you start telling the story, Harry listening closely he felt like he was just a teenager laughing with you, blocking out the bullshit.

***

Remus had walked into the kitchen dining room to see Sirius standing and the front of the table. His eyes wide “Is that?” Remus nods

Sirius move towards the door but Remus catches his arm “She’s with Harry, let them be for a bit”

Sirius hears laughter. The sound was both the best thing he’s heard in a long, long time, the sound of his wife and godson laughing together and it was real laughter. “I have to see her, I have to talk to her” He had an erratic, anxious voice “Later Pads, when the others get here you can but for now, let her talk with Harry” “Where has she been?”

“Still living in your old home” Sirius’s eyes widen “She works at a cafe close by, I don’t remember the name. That’s all I know” “How is she?” “I- I don’t know” Remus admits looking down while Sirius frowns

“How don’t you know? You’ve been with her while I was- ” “I wasn’t with her…” “What?” Sirius’s voice when down a notch 

“After you got taken away, I cut everyone off, including her”  “You what!?” Sirius voice raised slightly “Don’t you remember what happened when- ”

“Yes I remember Sirius, but I panicked, but what’s important is she’s here now. Come on, we have work to do until the others get here” Sirius reluctantly agreed, giving one last look at the door

You had just told a story of when in an attempt to turn Mrs Norirs pink, the boys turned Mcgonagall pink. When Remus popped his head in the door

“Everyone's back if you wanna say hi”

“Sure!” Harry says you nod going out to the hallway. You take off the charm on the painting before closing the door, getting jump scared by Molly saying hello. “Shivers, Hi Molly”  She grabs your face “It’s been too long!” She smiles

You say hello to everyone making small talk. Sirius was standing in the doorway to the kitchen he went from wanting to talk to you to having a lump in his throat. Seeing you smile made him have a small grin as he watched you with everyone he cared for.

You caught Sirius in the corner of your eye giving him a quick glance before going back to talking to Molly’s twins “Wait, where’s Sirius?” Harry looks around the hallway spotting him at the door “Sirius! Come!” Harry waves Sirius over. He gulps walking over

“Hey y/n” He smiles “Hey” You smile at him. It's the kind of smile he knew, It was one that you were always able to fool everyone with no one but Sirius could tell it was a fake smile. The fake smile you gave people that you didn’t want to talk to.

“Anyway, as much as I want to stay, I have to head back to my house” You give a small smile “Wait, you’re not staying?” Harry’s face fell, It hurt you to see that It felt like your heart cracked  “I’m sorry Harry, I swear on my life I’ll come by every second I can” “Please don’t leave me…” He whispered looking at the floor. You wanted to protest yet you physically couldn’t

“I swear you and James could get me to do anything” His eyes lit up again and he did something you thought you’d never feel again. He hugged you. You stiffen for only a moment, he went to move away and apologies. But you hug him back

“Ok, everyone in the kitchen for dinner!” Molly calls, everyone filling in you go to follow when Sirius calls to you “Y/n, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to say, Sirius” You say over your shoulder walking into the room with everyone Sirius looks down, before putting on a brave face and walking in after you.

It felt amazing to see everyone again after dinner and a while of catching up, Molly ushing the teens to go up to their rooms to sleep, The adults who didn’t live there slowly leaving as well

“It was amazing to see you all again” You smile brightly as you put on your jacket “Are you going to come back again?” Harry says a worried look on his face

“Every chance I get, I’ll be here for you, and you can always send me a letter if you need me” You hug Harry kissing the crown of his head. Saying final goodbyes you go to the door as Harry runs up the stairs.

It’s just you and Sirius left in the hallway, you give him a smile It was small but real. He smiled at you back “I missed you” he said sadness evident in his voice.

You nod, raising your hand in a small wave. He notices your ring not there and his eyes sink, he starts fiddling with his ring something he did when he was upset or stressed and you noticed

“I’ve still got it you know?” You step closer to him. grabbing his hand with his ring on it

“But you’re not wearing it” His voice was small “I know this whole mess broke us, broke you, I guess I just hoped you still loved me like I love you”

You move his hand to your lips placing a small kiss on the ring. Something you did when he was stressed, his eyes started watering. You pull the necklace from under your shirt

“Just because it’s not on my finger doesn’t mean I’m not wearing it I have it on me all day, every day It just felt wrong to have it on my finger since I thought you’d stop loving me”

He smiled, taking the necklace off you slipping the ring off, putting it back on your finger where it felt right. This moment made you feel whole again like Sirius was getting a broom and rags cleaning the broken glass, to get you a new cup of coffee, to make a new start.

“I know things aren’t going to be like they used to but I’ll be damned if I don’t try to make you feel like you once did and I won’t leave you again. Even if it means sitting in this fucking house. I’ll do it for you” Tears started falling from his eyes matching the ones that fell from yours

“Sirius, our old home, isn’t a home anymore. After you left, the life left it but this place isn’t a ‘house’ for me. This may be a horrendous place, the source of so much pain. But it’s home cause you’re here” He pulls you into a hug crying into your shoulder 

“I missed you so much y/n” “I missed you too Siri, I love you, and I never stopped and I never will” “I love you” He kept repeating into your hair

Harry was standing at the top of the stairs watching this, crying seeing the two people who were best friends with his parents. Who have both sworn to him never to leave him reuniting. He had overheard Remus and Sirius talking about you before but it didn’t click it was you. How could it? he’d never met you and they never said your name, it makes sense now, how Sirius talked about you.

Looking up the stairs you saw Harry duck out of view, but you had seen him

“Harry, if you were going to watch and eavesdrop on us you probably should have put your invisibility cloak on” You chuckled hearing Harry swear under his breath and Sirius looked up the stairs at him, motioning him to come down. He’s never moved so quickly and he joined the hug

“When this is all over we’ll be a proper family, you’ll see” Sirius smiles

The glass had been fixed and never been clearer.

[wizardessheart-sideb]

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said nonchalantly, as if we were in town and not in a forest on a hard to reach peninsula. For a moment, I wondered if I was hallucinating. But no, Zett was really here, right in front of me.

“What are you doing here?!” I demanded. “You’re not a student, are you?”

“No, I’m here doing some freelance security,” he replied. He looked weirdly proud of himself, smirking and folding his arms against his puffed-up chest.

“‘Freelance security?’” I wanted to sigh. What was he doing now? This was seriously the weirdest dude I’d ever met.

“Yeah. I’m just making sure the Academy’s secure so no weirdos get in,” he told me.

“Well, you already failed. You’re here.” I couldn’t stop myself from letting the words slip out of my mouth. But instead of getting mad, he just grinned at me.

“Oh, I’m allowed here,” he said. I really doubt it, I wanted to say, but pissing off a guy in the middle of the forest seemed like a really bad idea. “All right, I make sure my secret entrance is secure, but really, I watch out for creeps,” he added with a shrug.

“Is that a problem?” I asked. All right. I could bite for a moment.

“Well, yeah. You got a private school full of privileged rich kids and a lot of them either come from real old money or their parents are celebrities. And also, you know the kind of parents that send their kids to private school,” he said with accusatory eyes and a bitter note in his voice. I wouldn’t lie, that stung a bit.

“No, I wouldn’t, actually. I was home-schooled until now, and I’m an orphan” I told him. I wanted to add, “Are you happy now?” but the smirk slid off his face in an instant and there was something… strange in his eyes. Was that worry?

“Shit, are you also a part of that whack job cult – I mean, are you a part of Kristina’s church?” Zett quickly caught himself. I raised an eyebrow.

“Kristina? The waitress?” I searched my mind for the night we met. She had a brother here, doesn’t she? I don’t think I’ve met him. “Uh, no, I don’t know Kristina or her brother at all.” Zett’s body relaxed and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Geez, you scared me. I was worried you were a part of their cult or something. Zacharias – her twin – was home-schooled too until a year ago. It’s kind of their thing.” He straightened up, that cocky grin returned to his face. “Well, I’m glad you’re not getting religious trauma.”

“… Thank you?” What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Like, I guess I’m glad, too? “But really. Why and how are you here? Don’t you need an Academy emblem to get in?” I asked. When in doubt, change the subject.

“I got a fake. It works just fine and I’m free to come and go as I please.”

“To do your ‘freelance security?’”

“That and bring people things they need.”

...

“Wait… you’re an errand boy?!”

“Sometimes. For my good friends. And you, if you want to hire me,” he added with a wink.

“So you just avoided my question for like, five minutes to avoid telling me you’re just an errand boy?” What was up with this guy? I didn’t know whether to laugh or be irritated.

“You know I like my secrets,” he said. “But seriously, what are youdoing out here looking for a lantern?”

“I’m being hazed,” I replied. That wiped the grin off his face. “What’s with the seriousness?” I asked as he started walking deeper into the forest. Not knowing what to do, I followed him. As we walked, he rummaged through his bag and brought out

“I know what you’re looking for. I helped design it,” he told me. “When you find it, don’t touch it. If you do, it’ll start projecting ghosts and shit.”

“I, uh… Thank you? But why are you helping me?” I inquired.

“Why not?” he replied. There was a moment of silence and he turned back to me, shrugging. “You look like you’re in a bad mood. I doubt you wanna deal with the lantern.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong.” I kept my eyes peeled for the lantern or any kind of animal I can ask. Zett and I were silent as we walked through the forest. I tried to stay on my guard too, just in case. I really should invest in pepper spray or a knife.

We turned a corner on the trail and I spotted an owl on a branch, looking regal as it surveyed its surroundings. Yay! Now I canget to work.

“Excuse me, Mr. Owl,” I called out, approaching the bird. It looked down at me. “Hi, I’m looking for a lantern. It looks like a golden sphere. Have you seen anything like that around here?”

“I don’t know what it looked like, but I did see something glowing over yonder.” The owl stretched his wing off the trail, towards a large oak tree.

“Great! Thank you so much!” Carefully, I stepped over some bushes and went off the path.

“Uh, what was that?” Zett hurried after me, gracefully stepping over the bushes and getting to me in no time. Huh. I wouldn’t have thought he could move so elegantly, but here we were.

“I can speak to animals. I figured they’d know where the lantern is. Or at least, they’d have a clue,” I told him.

“Impressive.” Again, a silence fell between us as we made our way towards the big tree.

“So, who are you doing errands for? Or is that confidential?” I added teasingly. He laughed.

“Maybe.” He flashed me a grin. “Nah, I can tell you. My best friend Isabelle asked me to get her a makeup collection that released earlier today, so I’m going to go give it to her.”

“Isabelle? Super short, purple hair?” I asked.

“You know her?”

“Yeah, I met her earlier,” I said. It was probably for the best I didn’t mention we lived in the same suite. “Do you know everyone in the Night Class?”

“Mm, probably not. But I know a lot of them.” We reached the large oak tree. From behind it, there was a faint, golden glow. I hurried towards it. “Hey, remember not to touch it!” Zett called after me. I peeked around the tree and sure enough, there it was, casting star-shaped rays of light onto the ground. Honestly, it was a very pretty lantern. Maybe Zett could make me a real lantern that looked like this. And speak of the devil, he walked right on by me, getting of his knees and fishing what looked like a screwdriver out of his back pocket. He carefully stuck it into the lantern and after fiddling with it for a few seconds, the lantern flickered and smoke poured out of the holes. The acrid stench made me cough, but soon the thick black smoke turned to gray wisps. Zett picked it up and handed it to me.

“There you go. It should be safe now,” he said. I couldn’t see anything written on his face that would tell me if he was lying or not. He seemed to be telling the truth. Not to mention this looked broken now. Tentatively, I grabbed it and held onto it tight. It was still pretty warm and nothing happened.

“Thanks again for helping me,” I told him.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t know what’s up with you, but I hope you feel better. Really.” He paused. “When you give that back to whoever, tell them it was smoking when you found it and you had to douse it with water, all right? Don’t tell them I was here.”

“Okay…” And again, with the shady stuff. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. You ever need me, tell Isabelle and she’ll call me. I’ll see you later, baby.” It was good he left because otherwise I would have hit him. Geez. How was I going to handle him? If he ran errands for the other students, I was bound to run into him again. I didn’t mind him he was nice, but man, he was really capable of leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

I hurried back to the trail and back to Zeus. As soon as he realized the lantern was off, that gleeful smile on his face disappeared.

“What the hell?! Why isn’t the lantern lit?!” he demanded, storming over to me. He wrenched the lantern out of my hands.

“I found it because it was smoking. I couldn’t really figure out the mechanics, but I think something’s busted in it,” I lied.

“Damn it! I’m going to have to have my friend look at it,” he groaned. I wondered if he meant Zett. “Well… Good job, I guess.” There was a distinct bitter note in his voice.

“Cool, I’m going back to the dorms now.” I didn’t wait for an answer, heading back to the mausoleum and back to my room. As I neared our suite, I could smell something spicy and fragrant in the air. My nose twitched. I slipped into our suite and peeked into the kitchen. Dorian was stirring something in a large pot, Aika beside him slathering melted butter onto some rolls.

“That smells really good,” I commented. Aika flinched a little and the two turned back to face me. Dorian gave me a stern look and immediately my stomach dropped.

“Can you go tell Isabelle to get her ass in here? I told her dinner was ready ten minutes ago,” he demanded. I just nodded and hurried out of the room. Isabelle’s door was propped open just a smidgen and I poked my head in. Isabelle was on the floor, a huge cardboard box with an intricate pattern printed on it sitting in front of her. It was full of assorted makeup items. I knocked and she looked up.

“Come on in! You’re just in time! I just got this delivered!” she told me. I opened the door and ventured in a step.

“Dinner’s ready and Dorian doesn’t seem happy with you,” I told her quietly. She just laughed and stood up, leaving the box in place.

“Oh, Dorian’s always big mad,” she said. Together, we walked back to the kitchen. “So, how did the first day go?” Isabelle asked as she plucked a roll off a plate.

“It was fine. Hard, but fine,” I told her.

“How did Zeus’ dumbass hazing go?” Aika asked.

“How do you know about that?”

“Tsukasa came in here in a panic and told us about it,” Dorian replied. “He wanted us to do something about it.” And you didn’t? I made a mental note not to trust them in an emergency.

“Poor thing was hysterical. His heart’s too big for him,” Isabelle commented, taking a seat. I quickly got my own food and sat down across from her. “He’s too nice for the Night Class, if you ask me.”

“I don’t know, he’s pretty stubborn,”Aika commented.

“He and Fandamilia seem really nice,” I added. Isabelle’s lips pursed into a fine line. Dorian snorted.

“I wouldn’t mention her if I were you. Isabelle hates her,” he told me.

“What? Why?” Once again, words I shouldn’t have said slipped out. I really need to work on my filter.

“Because she likes Zeus and keeps trying to justify his shitty behavior,” Isabelle said tensely. “I just don’t think you should try and make excuses or ignore people’s shitty behavior.”

“I mean… Yeah…” Aika said, looking a little uncomfortable. “No one’s perfect and you can’t bleach red flags. Not acknowledging bad behavior isn’t great. … But she’s in love, you know? She just wants him to love her back.”

“Explains it, but it’s not an excuse,” Isabelle added.

“I’m stopping this before it becomes a fight,” Dorian spoke up. “We’re moving on.” I wondered if Isabelle excused the bad things Zett did. Or maybe she didn’t know about him being a weird and lowkey creepy flirt. But then again, he didn’t have to derail his job to go help me with the lantern. Speaking of, Isabelle had that makeup package, so he must’ve already come through here. Did he see my name on the nameplate next to my door? Did Isabelle mention me to him? Was I going to run into him again? Something told me that even if I wasn’t suitemates with Isabelle, I’d be seeing more of him.

[bonniebird]

Dorcas x Reader

Requested by Anon

Halloween 2020 Masterlist

Halloween 2020 event rules

Halloween Prompt list

Dorcas sighed as she smoothed her dress, Prudence had said she wouldn’t enjoy a mortal halloween party. But you’d wanted her to go with you so badly she agreed.

She’d arrived in a dress that shimmered as she walked, red and black lace moons adorned the sides. It certainly stood out against the crude werewolf and witches, warts and all. You had Zelda Spellman help you with a costume that was accurate, a four hundred year old prophetess that you’d read about in a book. Ambrose had more information and half a picture. When you and Dorcas went to collect the book Zelda insisted on helping you make the costume, mentioning that she’d known the prophetess.

Dorcas was pulled for her thoughts when she heard the shrill voice of the girl dressed as an ugly old crone.

“Vampires are real. They’re usually not the cape-wearing, "mwah-hah-hah-ing” types, but rather people with ordinary jobs who just happen to consume blood.“ You said insistently.

“She’s right!” Dorcas added.

“Oh is she. What are you even? No monster dresses like you.” The crone said rudely.

“I’m a witch.” Dorcas answered simply.

“She a witch, like the ones from the old tv show!” Someone said from the background.

“Bewitched?” Another voice added.

“Well that’s stupid. We all knew witches look like this. Maybe you should go to a fake halloween party.” The girl snapped quickly.

“Maybe we should leave. Who wants to go to a party without any imagination?” You said quickly. Dorcas nodded.

“You know, there is an after party, after Halloween… witch things. Hilda said if you go and find her you can meet up with me there.” Dorcas offered as the two of you started leaving.

“Oh! I wondered why she said she was making human snacks for me… I was a little worried that there were humans in the cookies. After Sabrina said about the eating thing. I don’t get everything yet.” You admitted and Dorcas smiled. You told Dorcas about things you did on Halloween, somethings didn’t make sense to her. Though she did think bribing Nicholas Scratch with cookies might sway him from using you in a ritual. Once you reached the Spellman house Hilda hurried to the door as you hugged Dorcas goodbye.

“Good luck with your halloween thing. Or bad luck if that’s what you’re supposed to say… Whichever one is the right one.” You said cheerfully as you waved Sabrina and Dorcas off.

“Right then. I thought we’d have some warm cocoa and sweet cinnamon biscuits. I still need a little help whipping up some snacks but by the time that’s done we’ll be able to go to Dorian Gray’s lounge and you have a special guest of honour invited from the man himself.” Hilda said as she guided you incised and glanced around.

“Dorian Gray? Like… as in…?”

“The painting. Yes. Just don’t bring it up or he’ll have you kicked out.” Ambrose said as he stole a cookie. Hilda shooed him to the kitchen table and gave him a few of the cracked cookies.

“I wouldn’t mention it. Dorcas was so nice to come to my halloween party when everyone was being so rude about witches. Well not everyone. I wouldn’t want to embarrass her.” You admitted and Hilda gave you a soft look.

“I’m sure that you won't. You know what Dorcas asked Zelda to have her friend come to the party. I heard she is so excited to see the costume you made with Zelda that she agreed.” Hilda smiled as she started mixing more dough. 

[weirdochick56]

Trapped- Campbell Eliot Imagine

Campbell Eliot x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. Dark!Campbell (obviously)

Disclaimers: This isn’t a light character and this isn’t a light relationship or situation. This is dark and violent so please read with care if abusive situations aren’t your jam!

Word Count: 3,914 words

Summary: Campbell Eliot is your bestfriend’s, Sam, brother. He’s a disturbed individual who doesn’t feel emotions like the rest of you do. His gaze and heart are dark and sadistic and yet- you’re drawn to him. So when he comes looking for Elle and no one gives her up, he offers another aleternative; he’ll take you instead. But he’ll only keep you for a limited amount of time. If by the end of that time you still want to leave him, he’ll let you and Elle go-- definitively. If not, you’re his. Should be easy right?

***

(Gif is not mine!)

You lick your lips, flipping through another page of the book, eyes intensely seeking out every word, soaking every syllable in your head.

This was you third time reading Jane Eyre, but each time it just got better.

You’re so immersed in the fictional world of the young woman, in fact, that you don’t notice when someone comes in until he speaks- voice gruff and bemused.

“Good book?”

You jolt off the couch, heart instantly clenching in shock as your gaze flickers to person which has spoken.

“Campbell,” his names leaves your mouth in a barely-registered, unintentionally breathless mumble.

He grins at you. “Did I scare you, doll?”

You swallow, avoiding eye contact. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Shrugging, he steps closer to you. “As happy as I am to see you, I’m here for Allie and Will. They’ve got something that belongs to me.” He motions loosely around you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where they are would you?”

You shake your head. “And even if I did why the hell do you think I’d tell you?”

He pauses suddenly, face falling and the move is so startling, your heart does too.

He stares you down as he steps closer. You refuse to move or maybe you just can’t- his gaze paralyzing you entirely.

It isn’t until he’s a mere foot away from you, scanning you from head to toe pensively, that he finally speaks.

“You’re too fuckin pretty and smart to be aiming this low, Y/n. Always were.”

You scoff at him. “And according to you what the hell is so low that I’m aiming at?”

“This. This house, these people. You don’t belong here.”

You laugh wryly, shaking your head. “And what the hell would you know about belonging Campbell? All your life, all you’ve done is not fit in. You try- you hang out with the cool kids but even you can’t make yourself believe that you actually feel good with them. That you actually fit in.”

He clenches his jaw, clearly on the verge of snapping, before a small ominous smirk grows on his face. “Yeah. You’re right, dollface. But at least I’m actually going for the people that matter. Allie and her pathetic little crew won’t stay in power of this town for much longer and then you’ll be on the losing side.”

You smirk. “We’ll see about that.”

At the smugness in your face, something suddenly snaps in him and he laughs.

“You’re so fucking lost. I’m willing to show you the way though, Y/n.” He tilts his head mocking, eyes scanning you from head to toe with a malicious glint in those mysterious eyes.

You swallow your fear. “Yeah? And how’s that?”

“If you open those long legs of yours for me, I’d be more than willing, dollface.” He licks his lip mockingly.

You’re sure he doesn’t actually mean it; Campbell is always playing games and this is another one of his sick manipulations to get you riled up.

And it’s working.

You first your hand, raising your arm in a flash, ready to punch the living daylights out of him, but he catches his arm just before your fist connects with his annoyingly sharp jaw.

He yanks your closer to him, clicking his tongue with pretend disapproval. “Now, Y/n, that’s not a very nice thing to do to a guest, is it?”

“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but I’m not your fucking toy, Campbell,” you hiss at him, despretely trying to tug your arm from his painfully tight grasp, fighting the panic rising in you at your vital mistake.

No one else was at home and they wouldn’t be for a while. It was just you and him— no one was here to save you if he decided to do something.

Truth be told, he terrified you. But that didn’t mean you’d let him know that. You knew the sick motherfucker got off on that shit, and you weren’t going to become just another helpless victim trapped beneath his sharp claws.

Not you.

At your venomous response, Campbell simply raises a dark brow at you, scanning you from head to toe with decisive carelessness and a cold indifference that made you feel like a minuscule bug beneath his shoe.

That was one of the things with Campbell- he had a way of making people feel like worthless little things. Especially in comparison to him. It was this effect that made you detest him even more than usual. He wasn’t just a jerk, he was manipulative in the worst way possible because he didn’t only manipulate you for his own benefit, but against your own. He made you hate yourself so much you’d have no choice but to comply with him.

And you weren’t immune to it, no matter how much you tried to deny it.

And yeah, sure- physically speaking, Campbell Eliot could more than easily overpower you. No doubt.

He was taller, towering over you like a damn mountain. And he was clearly stronger- the lean muscles that flexed beneath his shirt anytime he took a menacing step toward you were enough evidence.

But somehow you knew it was stripping your mind of its power that he really enjoyed. Being able to trap you in your own fucking body- that’s the real power trip he craved.

He raises his hand, fingertips softly brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as you stubbornly stare him down.

The touch is shocking in its contrast to the death grip he has on your arm and it nearly makes you whimper.

He curls his hand over your jaw, placing his thumb under your chin, fingertips softly brushing against your neck.

You watch him so closely that your heart nearly drops when he suddenly twitches- it’s very small, but seeing as you’re quite literally holding your breath for his next move, you catch it- and it’s as his hand sweeps lightly over your neck...over your throat.

You watch his face closely. His lips part, his breath hitches and his eyes darken even more beneath the dim light of your living room.

He catches himself quickly, though. So quickly in fact, you’re sure if it weren’t for the fact that he were so close and you were so fucking scared of him, you wouldn’t have even noticed.

But you did. And a chill runs up your spine when you think about what he must’ve been thinking in that messed up head of his.

This fear grows when he uses his thumb to force you to look up at him, leaving your jugular totally exposed and vulnerable to those big hands.

“Oh, dollface, but you are,” he responds with sardonic sympathy. “You all are. Now, tell me where they are.”

Your breath hitches when he abruptly digs his fingers into the skin of your arm, sinking his claws into you.

Tears prickle your eyes at the sudden and sharp pain. You try to blink them away and hold back the tiny sobs threatening to exit your slightly dry lips, but a few of both escape anyway and you hate yourself for being so damn weak in front of him.

That is why, to reserve your dignity (or what’s left of it anyway), you don’t dare back down, looking at him dead in the eye and gritting your teeth as you lean in.

You wait for him to expect something of you and then you talk.

“Fuck. You,” you grit out with biting anger.

He smiles in a sickengly smug way, dark eyes practically drinking in the sight of you twisting in pain beneath his touch, of the humiliation embedded deep beneath that fake bravado of yours.

And as much as you hated admitting it, despite it all, there was such beauty in that gaze, such intriguing depth.

God, if it weren’t for the fact that you could see the sadistic joy -far darker than you had initially thought- clearly swimming in them as well, you could’ve confused him for handsome. If for a mere second.

If for a mere second, you could make out a striking resemblance between him and Dorian Gray in the infamous painting- the version before he turned into a monster that is.

His face was structured in that same classical beauty kind of way- high cheekbones, sharp jaw, bold brows, delicate pink lips, and a thick set of long lashes encasing a pair of piercing blue eyes.

But seconds go by and that mere second sure as hell did.

And all it gives way to is the pain you’re currently feeling and the perpetrator behind it. His beauty is dangerous. It’s deceiving to what truly hides beneath it. The ugliness simmering beneath, just waiting for something to snap from within to explode and take with it everything in its path.

He leans into you all of a sudden, making your heart jump all the way to you throat at the abruptness of the movement.

Not go mention; you’re fucking trapped between him and the wall now.

You catch a whiff of his cologne- a subtle but manly scent and the musk of his sweat and it makes your head spin. That along with the bitterness of the situation you’re in, nearly makes you faint with fucking desperation.

A trapped animal. That’s what he was minimizing you to. A fucking animal.

You swallow past the lump in your throat, hard. Licking your dry lips, you anticipate with almost overwhelming anxiety his next move.

His gaze flickers down to your lips as he laughs softly.

The warmth of his breath as it brushes against your face sends another chill down your spine and you can’t quite decipher if it’s because you’re shitting your pants or because he’s abandoned his indifference and is now looking at you like you’re his next prey and he can’t wait to chase you down and devour you.

His thumb softly caresses your chin, fingers moving into your hair. Your lips part at the delicious sensation and despite yourself, you lean into his touch.

“Careful what you go wishing for there, Y/n. Might just come true,” he warns mockingly, his whispers hoarse. His gaze sweeps over you- shameless as ever.

He made you feel invaded in your own body, the way he looked at you. His gaze and the liberties he took with them as he roamed your body and face made you feel like you were mistaken and actually his to look at. Like you were his to undress with his eyes.

It was a strange feeling to have him close after watching him from afar for years. Even as Sam’s best friend, you’d only ever talked to him twice before in the past.

Both were calling him out on treating Sam like trash.

To which he’d only laughed and walked away as if you were but a pesky little thing. After that, you had made it a point to stay away from Campbell. He was intimidating even in his nonchalant disregard.

But now, after what has happened, after almost everyone in your town had disappeared- he was making you question everything you believe in. And he seemed to be targeting you rather than just shake you off.

The fucker.

You suddenly can’t breathe, your heart beating so fast, you feel feel fucking dizzy with all the adrenaline it’s pumping through your veins.

You inhale shakily, trying to keep your fitting in this slippery slope of a situation you’d gotten yourself into.

“Let me fucking go, Campbell. I already told you I don’t know where they are,” you say- tone far too soft to be anything even remotely close to imposing.

He clicks his tongue at you mockingly and when you feel him tangle his fingers into your hair, wrapping the strands around his hand, you know something bad was going to happen.

Suddenly, he yanks your head back. The searing, burning pain coming from your scalp was unexpected and lethal and you cant help but let a loud yelp escape your lips.

“I’ll let you go when I fucking feel like it, you got me? I still don’t think any of you fucking understand, so let me make it crystal clear,” he snarls, forcing you to look him in the eye.

They’re stone cold, emotionless, the only emotion he had -sadistic joy- is gone and in its place there’s only searing, voidful, palpable anger.

“Everyone in this fucking town is scared of me.” He briskly releases you, knocking you back into the wall as he takes a few steps away from you. “And it’s for good reason.”

With a tiny grunt, you glare up at him. “Asshole,” you mutter.

He ignores your petty little insult, scoffing down at you like you’re a worthless piece of shit.

“Even you.”

You scowl. “Well I don’t know about everyone else but I, for one, am not afraid of you, Campbell.”

His lips curl upwards as he stares at you with a bemused look on his infuriatingly attractive face. “Sure you fucking aren’t. You know,” he clicks his tongue. “I always found it strange that even when you and Sam were attached at the hip, you never tried to get even remotely close to me. I mean aside to give me shit about the way I chose to treat Sam.”

He suddenly grows serious, a predatory look instantly growing on his face. Then he clenches his fists so tight, his knuckles turn paper white.

“Oh, the things I could do to you,” he mumbles, eyes zeroing in on your chest and then your neck. He drags his tongue over his thin upper lip, eyes flickering back up to you.

If that asshole knew how bothered his eyes on you made you feel, he ignored it. Or perhaps he enjoyed watching you squirm. Probably the latter.

They’re so dark now, that under this lighting- they almost look black. Far from his natural pools of blue and strikingly menacing.

His silver earring glimmers dangerously under the light and then you catch a glimpse of something else in his hand as he holds it up to the light.

Your blood runs cold when you realize it’s a blade.

He casually plays around with it, twirling around his hand with ease.

“You wouldn’t just be afraid...” he closes his eyes for a second, as if imagining it in his mind. A sick, perverted smirk instantly curls his lips and his cold gaze pins yours down once more when he releases a tiny hum.

“You’d be begging me to hurt you some more. Hell you’d get on your fucking knees and ask me to like the nice little girl you make everyone think you are.”

Your chest rises but doesn’t fall as you hold your breath. You’re trembling at this point, but you hope to god he doesn’t fucking notice.

“You’re sick,” you whisper roughly, eyeing him cautiously.

He shrugs nonchalantly, fingers running the knife some fucking idiot had left lying around.

“Maybe. But at least I’m not weak.” He looks at you pointedly. “At least I know how to take care of the things that belong to me.”

You huff, swallowing down your fear and letting your mouth run. “See, that’s the fucking problem with you Campbell. You think you’re entitled to owning people. But I’m not going to let you manipulate me.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, trust me, Y/n. Right now, with you- this is as real as I get. If I was manipulating you, you wouldn’t know it.”

Despite how much his words chill you to the bone, and your strangely strong urge to ask a whole bunch of questions, you merely chuckle sarcastically at him, putting on a brave face.

“Fortunately, that’s never going to happen.” You smile before quickly letting it drop. “Now if you’re done, get the fuck out.”

He sighs with fake defeat, putting the knife down casually.

“Fine. I’ll go.” You don’t budge, refusing to drop your guard at his words.

He smiles and even though you know that it’s not real- for a split-second you forget who he is because of how damn charming it is.

“Tell your friends I was here, will you doll?”

You almost let out a sigh of relief when he spins on his heels and begins to walk away but that gets trapped in your windpipe when suddenly pauses near the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“You know, it’s a shame.”

“What is?” You snap.

“That we hadn’t talked like this earlier.” He grins darkly. “I actually kinda enjoyed this little convo of ours.”

And with that he walks out, slamming the door shut.

Once you’re sure he’s gone, you release a huge breath, falling against the wall.

Your arm was throbbing aggressively and so was your scalp, your chest aches with pent-up anxiety.

And yet....

And yet all you can really think about is those eyes. That smirk.

The darkness inside of him wasn’t entirely empty, you conclude the more you thought about the genuine joy he had as he saw you in pain.

It was fucked up for obvious reasons, but you couldn’t help but think that what he held in that gaze was far more than that emotionless exterior he showed everyone. It was darkness nonetheless, but it wasn’t entirely devoid of all emotion.

Everyone said he didn’t feel like the rest of you did. But he felt something didn’t he?

There was something almost mesmerizing about figuring out what he was thinking. What he was feeling. About what made him tick.

It was crazy, but he’d always seemed like a sad person to you. Even underneath all that hard skin he’d built over the years, underneath that emotionless existence he’d been living, he seemed sad.

He scared you so much, it was practically impossible for you to comprehend why he also intrigued you just as much- if not more.

His darkness was as terrifying and unpredictable as it was alluring to you.

You sigh a little, glancing the already-forming bruises marring the skin of your arm. They were dark imprints of where he’d sunk his fingers into you.

You shiver just thinking about his hands on your skin.

You can never forget how dangerous he is.

Because if you do, you could find yourself trapped under his claws.

*

You tug on your long-sleeve subconciously, looking at Allie with furrowed brows.

“He said he was looking for you guys.”

Will shares a look with the blonde girl before looking back at you. “Did he specify why?”

You shrug. “No. Just said he needed to talk with you because you had something that belonged to him.”

Pursing her lips, Allie sighs. “We’re sorry for leaving you alone, Y/n. We should’ve had someone from the guard here. But he didn’t like-” she hesitates, watching you closely. “He didn’t hurt you or anything, did he?”

You look down, tugging even more at the sleeves and shake your head. “No.”

Allie had enough on her plate as is, you didn’t want to add another thing to it and be a bother.

She nods and sends you a look, fairly enough not looking convinced at all by your meek firmness.

“Well-” just as she begins to speak, a loud knock at the door abruptly cuts her off.

All three of you share a look this time, and you swallow harshly, heart racing. “Campbell?” you mumble with dread.

Allie motions to Grizz to check who it is. He nods, prying the front door open only slightly.

“What do you want Campbell?” He spits.

The small, indifferent, mocking, cold laugh he gives as a response floats in from the other side of the door and sends a shiver down your spine.  

“I need to talk to Allie,” he says simply.

Grizz goes to protest coldly, but Allie shakes her head at him, motioning for Campbell to come in. Grizz clenches his jaw, but complies, stepping aside for him to step in.

Campbell smirks sumgly, leering down at Grizz -who looks just about ready to explode- as he passes by him.

Then his gaze shifts to you as you stare at him and he grins brightly. You instantly look away, scrutinizing your hands.

Your spine goes rod straight as his footsteps near the kitchen, where you currently sat on a stool by the counter.

“What the hell do you want Campbell?” Allie raises a brow at him.

He slightly glances at you before smirking up at her.

“Elle. Where is she?”

Allie shakes her head. “She’s not your property Campbell. And you can’t just barge in here like that.”

His smirk drops and he glowers at her. “Give her to me or I swear to God-”

“Or what?” Will interrupts. “What will you do?”

Campbell refuses to back down. “Or I will come over to your house every fucking night and make your life miserable until you do.”

Allie heaves a heavy sigh. “Campbell-”

“Unless...” he softly sing-songs.

Everyone pauses, staring at him.

And when his gaze gently glides over to you, you know what he wants before he even says it.

“Unless?” Will murmurs.

Campbell bites his lip delightfully, gaze never leaving you. “Unless you give me her instead.”

All at once, everyone around you protests.

“What are you crazy?!”

Campbell shrugs, mumbling beneath his breath . “A little.”

The outrage continues. “No fucking way we’re doing that.”

“Listen,” Campbell shushes them. “The way I see it is; this town is fucking sick and tired of you Allie. So I really doubt they’ll have a problem helping me make all your lives a living hell. Now, I can take Elle and keep her because she’s mine. Or I can take sweet little Y/n here and return her after I’m done with her. That is; if she even wants to come back after I’m done with her.”

None of them even consider his offer. They start protesting again against him.

You just sit there, staring off blankly. And when you finally speak up. moments later, everyone falls silent.

“I’ll go with you,” you whisper.

“W-what?” Allies sputters. “Y/n, no.”

You look at her. “Allie, this is my choice, okay?”

She purses her lips in a silent reprimand.

Campbell snorts at your words as you look up at him. “But you have to give me back after a month.”

“Two.”

“One and a half.”

“Deal.” He smirks with satisfaction.

He looks at Allie pointedly. “Deal?”

The blonde glances at Will, Grizz and finally you. It’s clear she hates this; they all do.

You take a deep breath, getting off the stool. You walk towards her, taking her hands in yours.

“Allie please,” you murmur. “Elle has been beaten down enough by him. He’s broken her.”

“And that’s exactly why I won’t let him take you too,” she insists freverently, squeezing your palms tightly.  

You deadpan, lowering your voice to a whisper only you two can hear. “Allie, Elle is a badass, but I’m stronger than her, we both know it. I’ve known Campbell my whole life, I know his startegies. I know I can hold out for a month and half. I know that I’ll come back to you and he won’t be running a damn campaign agaisnt you then. It’s a win-win.”  

“But-”

“This town needs you, Allie. Even if they don’t see it now. Don’t let us down.” You smile reassuringly for her sake more than yours. “I need you to trust me on this.”

She blinks back tears, nodding lightly.

You nod at her, fighting back your own tears and you step away. You turn to Campbell; your fucking nightmare incarnate.

“Let’s go,” you say softly.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

***

Why is there such a shortage of fics on Campbell? He’s such an interesting character and let’s be honest; fine as hell. 

(with that earing bruh?)

I definitely have a thing for hot psychos and it concerns me a lil bit.

A special thanks to:

My forevers

@jessikared97​

@ladyofletters67​

@sammykb1994​

@lilypalmer1987​​

@mogaruke​​

[masquerade-story]

Chapter 1 - Moving In

"Whose dumb idea was it to go camping like this anyway?" Grey grumbled, smacking away a tree branch that seemed determined to get friendly with his face.

Walking behind him, his twin sister Lillian rolled her eyes and poked the small of her brother's back. "Yours. It was your idea."

"Oh please Crystal! Please oh please might we go live at the haunted house in the woods where we'll certainly perish! I, Dorian Grey Duvall, swear on my sister's honor to let you protect me!" Rayne fluttered her eyelashes, lowering her voice to sound more like Dorian. She yanked the handcart she was dragging over a set of roots, careful to steady its contents before resuming her walk.

"Has to swear on my honor cuz he doesn't have any of his own left after the last time," Lillian snickered, while Grey pointedly ignored their teasing and continued clearing the overgrown path.

Bringing up the rear with a digital camera trained on everyone's back, Crystal grinned and panned the camera to take in the large, dense trees, and huge, leafy bushes. "For a haunted forest, it's actually pretty nice here. Ah, more meadow rue! Specifically thalictrum rochebrunianum, neat."

"Gesundheit," Rayne said, eliciting giggles from the group.

"The lacy one over there with the purple flowers," Crystal clarified. "There's some rue anemone and meadow rue 'splendide' around here too. Don't touch the white flowery plant up ahead by the way, it's giant hogweed. The leaves and sap can give you phytophotodermatitis, making you blister up in the sun."

"Bro, how do you remember any of this? And as for you, you're a scary bitch," Grey cringed away from the plant in question while swearing at it, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at its pretty little flower clusters.

"I read a lot."

"Me too, doesn't mean I absorb any of it! I spent like six hours on Wikipedia the other day, don't even fully remember what I looked up."

"Was it about The Hobbit or Merlin? Cuz that's all you ever look up."

"Look, Lils. I know I'm walking in the front and all, but you don't need to stab me in the back like that. Also sometimes it's Pacific Rim, thank you very much."

"Was it Pacific Rim?"

"No it was The Hobbit."

The group talking and laughing were the self-proclaimed 'Fairy Rock' band Aos Sí Echtrae. Each of them wore a hiking backpack containing personal items, while Rayne also tugged along a sturdy handcart holding supplies and instruments with ease - a drum kit, harp, bouzouki, and keyboard piled up alongside some smaller instruments and the camping stuff Crystal insisted they bring along.

Though their banter was light-hearted and comfortable, they took their excursion very seriously. After all, they'd temporarily rented a locally infamous haunted house to use for a music video! It was a large investment, but they'd become popular online and had enough supporters that they were able to fulfill one of their member's dearest dreams.

Dorian Duvall, or Grey as he preferred to be called by friends, and his twin sister Lillian Duvall played bouzouki and keyboard respectively. Both had the same willowy stature, button nose and almond eye shape, but despite their similarities they both gave off very different impressions. Where Lillian looked soft and gentle, with large doe-like green eyes, and a kind smile, Grey had a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes and a roguish grin that he utilized with careless abandon. Lillian wore her sleek black hair long and loose, falling down past her waist and kept away from her face by a cloth headband, while Grey wore his hair in a high ponytail decorated with small braids.

As the one who absolutely loved haunted houses and anything spooky, it was Grey's idea to film on location for their new Halloween-themed album, Masquerade. Though it was the middle of July, they were hoping to get everything ready for an September promotional release before the album dropped in October, and so hurriedly set up for their video shoot in order to give themselves plenty of time for editing.

All four of them worked together to compose their music, write lyrics, and design stage costumes as well as fan merchandise. They also lacked anything resembling a lead vocalist, taking turns depending on what sound worked best with each song, and preferring harmonies rather than solos.

"Ray! There's a log up here!" Grey called out suddenly, kicking the fallen tree blocking their path. Rayne grunted acknowledgment, and shuffled around Lillian to help move the obstruction.

Rayne Rose played the drums, and also did a majority of the heavy lifting due to being the strongest person present in any room that didn't involve professional weightlifters. Her muscular arms were covered with watercolor flower tattoos, which she proudly showed off by refusing to wear any shirt with sleeves. Her curly hair, dyed a gradient of aqua blue and purple, was cropped close to her face for summertime weather. The short style purposefully revealed ear gauges and more than a dozen total ear piercings, matching the many piercings on her brows, lips, and nose.

The twins had fresh yet roguish charms, while Rayne had a more heroic air with heavy brows and an intense black gaze over lips naturally curved into an amused smirk. She dusted off her hands after tossing the log aside with little effort, while Grey panted for breath from the exertion of merely helping her lift it. Crystal, for her part, made sure to get the whole thing on video for future blackmail purposes.

Crystal Rose, Rayne's older sister, played the harp. Unlike her athletic and statuesque sister, Crystal was on the soft and plump side. Her long, wavy blonde hair was pulled back into a messy twist to keep it off her neck, the ends still pink from the last time she dyed it. Her face was round and childish, with bluish gray eyes above an upturned nose and broad cheekbones, unremarkable features made more charming by her innate overwhelming charisma and natural exuberance.

She was the kind of person that random strangers would strike up a conversation with, lost kids would try to hold her hand, wild animals would approach like an old friend, and when she raised her voice even the most crowded room would quiet down. She was also the kind of person who got carded when buying alcohol despite being thirty years of age, due to what Grey dubbed 'Acute Babyface Syndrome'.

"Anyone need to clean their glasses?" Crystal asked, pulling a cloth from her pocket to swipe hers clean. Aside from Rayne, who wore her contacts, Grey and Lillian both opted to wear glasses for the hike so they wouldn't have to worry about losing a contact forever if they tripped - a serious and ever-present concern for the slightly clumsy twins.

"I'm good!"

"Not yet, thanks."

"I'll take it," Rayne said, keeping her expression blank, and Crystal narrowed her eyes.

"If you wipe your sweaty face with the glasses cloth I'll push you into the patch of poison ivy over there."

"Ope, nevermind then."

The haunted house was a thirty minute hike from the nearest road, along a mostly uphill path that hardly anyone ever used and certainly wasn't wide or steady enough for any automobiles. By the time they reached the stone fence encircling the house's enormous overgrown yard, everyone except Rayne was ready to collapse.

"I'm gonna be so in shape after this if my binder doesn't kill me first," Grey wheezed, leaning on the stone fence and looking up at the haunted house of his dreams with a longing yet exhausted expression. It stood atop a hill in the distance, surrounded by several acres worth of mostly empty property speckled by a few large trees and scraggly bushes. Behind it was a small barn, a chicken coop that hadn't seen use in ages, and a greenhouse conspicuously lacking anything actually green. "A stone brick cottage in the middle of the woods overgrown by vines, a sagging peaked roof with exposed beams, and gaping windows whose panes are cracked like spiderwebs... Looks spooky enough! If the door doesn't creak ominously when we open it, I'm filing a complaint."

Rayne pulled the handcart into the yard, then glanced over her shoulder at Crystal, who was panning the camera up to take a wide shot of the house from just inside the fence gate. "How's it feel, Coco?"

Crystal frowned, furrowing her brows. All four of them believed in the supernatural after they all experienced several strange circumstances growing up, and Crystal had long proven to have abilities that most people would've considered fake nonsense.

She kept a dream diary after experiencing incidents where she'd dream events before they occurred, and wanted to prove to herself it wasn't a figment of her imagination. Whenever something weird happened, she was the first to alert everyone and get them away from danger before anything bad happened, and had an uncanny sense of whether people were lying.

"Hard to say. It does feel... Weird. The walk through the whole forest was fine, but as soon as I walked into the yard... The air's different."

"Really?" Grey raised his eyebrows, hopping over the fence and holding out his arms. He was the second most sensitive to any external oddities, with a particular penchant for finding rather nasty unexplained phenomena. After a few seconds he frowned as well. "No, yeah. That's a weird vibe for sure. It's like, the forest was fine and funky fresh, then you get over here and it's..."

"Musty," Crystal and Grey finished at the same time, and exchanged wry smiles.

"Could be trepidation from perceived fears," Lillian pointed out, gesturing toward the house. Though she also believed in the supernatural, Lillian also liked trying to find reasonable explanations before resorting to the occult. "The big empty windows feel eerie because people expect houses to be brighter and look more lived in, right? It's possible it's just a subconscious response to an old, dilapidated building."

"Dilapidated..." Rayne muttered, raising her eyebrows as she surveyed the house. She had a sensitivity to people's emotions and motivations, and could sometimes pick up lingering feelings from objects, but she didn't feel anything in particular coming from the building. "I don't think it looks that bad? We've lived in worse."

"It hurts me, physically, every time you and Crystal tell us about that kind of thing," Lillian sighed, patting her hand over her heart while Grey nodded next to her. "This place looks gross! It's horrible to imagine little Ray and little Coco in a place even worse than this..."

"Hey, they hired someone to clean the inside and arrange some basic furniture for us to use," Grey said. "It won't be fancy, but the interior shouldn't be too gross! And we'll sleep in the same room for safety! After all... This is the Corpse Consuming Cottage!"

"Ugh, that name..." Crystal and Rayne both cringed at the same time, while Lillian's eyebrows shot up.

"Wait, it's called what?!"

"Yup! Bad, right? But it's earned the name cuz of how many people have gone missing here. Poof! Gone without a trace! Every single person who's ever bought this place has disappeared, along with any family they brought along." Grey grinned, wiggling his fingers at his suddenly horrified twin. "I even made a spooky spreadsheet citing all my sources, aren't you proud? It's legit, this place is either hella haunted or hella cursed."

"Will we be okay!?" Lillian muttered, color draining from her cheeks.

"There's a loophole," Rayne said, and Crystal nodded.

"Yeah, we didn't buy the house. We're just renting. Supernatural stories are always big sticklers on rules, right? Chanting something three times, turning a certain way, walking a certain pattern. If buying the house is part of the problem, then renting it shouldn't be counted as the same thing because possession isn't being transferred." Crystal turned the camera to zoom in on poor Lillian's pale face, hiding her mischievous grin behind the lens. "Theoretically."

"Don't even pretend you aren't absolutely terrified too, Miss I Can't Go On The Haunted House Ride At The Amusement Park I Have A Doctor's Note," Grey scoffed.

"I don't like ghosts or wraiths or poltergeists or whatever wicked whatsits terrorize the night because I feel bad for them thanks very much, but..." Crystal glanced over at the house and frowned, furrowing her brow again. "I feel bothered but not... Threatened? Like there's something here watching but it won't hurt us."

"That's as good as a gold star to me. Let's crack this bitch open and make some lunch!" With renewed vigor, Grey fished the key from his shorts pocket and ran up the creaky old porch to the front door. "Come on in, it's nice and cool inside! Comparatively speaking, I don't think there's an air conditioner. Just fans. But it'll be clean!"

Like he'd promised, the interior was cleaner than the exterior condition belied. Furniture was sparse, but they were all fine wood antiques with a hand-polished sheen. Everyone dropped their backpacks in the foyer and stretched for a moment before getting to work.

"Water's on!" Grey called from the kitchen, where he set the tap to run. "There's dishes and cookware in here too!"

"Silverware?" Lillian called back, in the middle of helping Crystal and Rayne unload the handcart.

"Yup, as requested! I think they're all antique like the rest of everything here."

"Don't you dare break any antique dishes, Dorian Grey!"

"No promises!"

"Electricity works," Crystal said with some surprise, flicking a nearby switch after setting her harp case on the floor in the living room, alongside a towering pile of boxes holding personal things they'd had delivered via the realtor. She held her breath to listen for any crackles or pops, but the overhead light didn't give so much as a flicker. "Wires might actually be okay? That's surprising, this house is really old. Must've been recently renovated."

"Probably to try and reel in prospective buyers," Rayne said, setting down three drum cases. The rest of her kit was already unloaded, so she took a moment to glance around the living room with Crystal. "Inside looks much nicer than outside."

"We can make it look spookier with filters and editing," Crystal said, running her finger against the windowsill. When it came up without dust, she furrowed her brows. "They were real thorough cleaning this place."

"Found the terrifying cellar!" Grey's faint muffled cry echoed from somewhere in the house, followed by the sound of Lillian shouting his full name and charging off after him.

"Any cold spots?" Crystal shouted down the stairs after circling the entire bottom floor trying to find them. The cellar door was tucked into the kitchen's pantry, which was a full walk-in room rather than a little cabinet.

Since the house was so far from town, part of the rental contract involved the current real estate agent making sure the kitchen was stocked before tenants took over. All the shelves were packed full with newly purchased dry goods and spices, mostly sorted into pretty glass jars for aesthetic appeal.

"No cold spots, just some nice shelving, big old ground freezer and a wine rack! Fruit preserves and stuff but they didn't leave any complimentary wine. Zero out of ten, not recommended."

"What makes it terrifying then?"

"Big spiders."

Crystal grimaced and backed away from the cellar door, narrowly evading Lillian as she retreated up the stairs at maximum speed.

The house was surprisingly large. The ground floor had a large open kitchen with an attached breakfast room, a living room, a dining room, a sitting room, a study with empty floor-to-ceiling bookshelves alongside display cabinets, and a laundry/changing room attached to a bathroom with an enormous sunken bath large enough to be used as a hot tub.

"I would buy this house just for the tub," Lillian said, stroking the porcelain with obvious affection.

"Please don't," Grey muttered. "We're evading the horrible disappearance curse via fairy loopholes, don't you go walking into the trap face-first like that!"

"Fine, but when we leave, we're bringing the tub with us."

"Yeah sure that's completely feasible and not at all slightly insane."

The upper floor had five large bedrooms with attached changing rooms, two lavatories, and a walk-in storage closet. Rayne carried their bags into the master bedroom, then returned to the handcart to retrieve the extra supplies they brought - a couple of brand new air mattresses, blankets, boxes of instant food, tents in case the house was in worse shape than expected, a first aid kit, and little tools like scissors, binoculars, and lighters.

"This place is supposed to be super haunted and cursed, yet..." Rayne hummed to herself, patting the mattress in the master bedroom. Every bed in the house was neatly made, with clean sheets and blankets that still smelled like soap. "Won't need the air mattresses. They really worked hard to make this place nice, huh?"

Finally, the attic under the peaked roof had a few small gaps in the shingles, but otherwise lacked any signs of weathering or exposure damage. The only things occupying the space were a few cobwebs in the darkest corners. "Ugh, nothing for us to snoop through," Grey muttered, poking his head into the attic for only moment before heading back downstairs to start moving boxes from the living room into various bedrooms for later sorting.

Crystal and Rayne turned the fans on in all the rooms to start circulating air, opening windows on the shaded side of the house to catch any stray breezes, while Lillian and Grey got started on making lunch. The house which stood empty for so long soon filled with laughter, conversation, and the smell of good food.

"I just can't get over how unhaunted this haunted house is," Grey lamented, tapping a fork against his empty plate. "I've been looking and there's not so much as a suspiciously shadowed corner or creaky stair board!"

"Are you sure those disappearances were legit?" Lillian asked, gesturing for Crystal to pass the salt so she could douse her potato salad. "You checked the sources themselves, right?"

"I did! That's why it's so weird!" Grey drained the remaining water from his glass, glaring down at the ice cubes rattling at the bottom. "Other than the terrible cell reception, weak internet signal, and our gut feelings, there's really no sign of anything being weird. I was promised jumpscares!"

"You were promised no such thing," Rayne muttered around a mouthful of grilled chicken sandwich, deftly capturing some lettuce before it escaped her lips and hit the table. "The outside looks spooky enough for use in our video, we can think of this like a vacation and relax for a bit until we have to leave."

"There's a barn out back, maybe that's haunted?" Crystal suggested, but Grey shook his head.

"I already checked... It's clean as a whistle. No disturbed earth or rattling rusty tools or anything!"

"Would you feel better if one of us got possessed by a demon?"

"Maybe. It'd have to be a really good possession though, if you're not crawling on the ceiling I want a refund."

"Oh, you're paying us?"

"Hell no, a refund of my feelings. My feelings!"

"Speaking of feelings, how do you feel, Coco? Lils?" Rayne interrupted just as Grey was about to get dramatic. "That was a doozy of a hike. You guys alright?"

Both Lillian and Crystal suffered from several health problems when they were younger, and were still weaker than the average person because of it. They had to work harder to remain healthy than most people did.

Lillian, since her mouth was full, flexed her arm and gave a thumbs up to show she was feeling alright. Once her mouth was clear of food, she added: "Mostly just sore, but nothing a long bath and some music won't cure!"

"Coco?"

Crystal gave a start, realizing she'd been staring out the nearest window for awhile and tuning out the conversation. She turned back to Rayne and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just feel a bit woozy, I think."

"Sensing something weird?"

"Honestly? I don't know." Crystal sighed, opening a can of grape soda and pouring it into her glass. "I still feel like we're being watched. And..."

She hesitated, then shook her head. No matter how Grey tried to cajole the rest of the sentence from her, Crystal kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. If she felt they were in danger she wouldn't be so tight-lipped, so they dropped the subject and started discussing their upcoming album instead.

After lunch they moved several beds into one room, turning the master bedroom into a big slumber party area. The rest of the afternoon and early evening was spent getting video and photos of the house and its yard, trying to find the perfect angles for use during the actual performance recording.

Rayne gathered some logs for firewood after noticing a fire pit in the back with some carved stone benches surrounding it. Dinner consisted of an open flame barbecue using packaged meats they found in the fridge, and a few veggies and fruit rolled into foil packs.

"We've really gotta thank that agent lady," Grey said, reclining in his chair. "She really came through with the supplies! It's so good having a fully stocked kitchen from the start, I was worried we'd be having pancakes and instant ramen for days."

"I'll head to town tomorrow and grab more meat for the freezer in the cellar," Rayne said, chewing on a skewer of chicken. "It's got a little variety right now but I'd like to stock up so we don't have to make as many trips. You and Lils might be fine with rabbit food, but Crystal and I need that good good protein."

"We're natural carnivores," Crystal agreed.

"Is there anything else we need from the store?"

"Nah, I can't think of anything. There's like, four entire bags of toilet paper, and towels and wash cloths and soaps and detergent and even pads and stuff. Like, I know we paid for the service but the level of consideration is really impressive!"

Crystal stared into the flickering flames, watching the embers rise into the rapidly darkening sky only to flicker away among the stars. The strange feeling she'd had all day was building to a crescendo, swelling in her chest in anticipation of...

Something.

Rayne glanced over, nudging her sister in the arm. "Coco? You're out of it again."

Crystal nodded. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened again. Seeing her strange behavior, Lillian and Grey both fell silent.

Finally, Crystal heaved a sigh and poked at the burning logs with a long stick. "Remember when we first posted the video for our band? It was uploading and we were all watching the loading bar while holding our breaths? How it felt?"

"Don't get nostalgic on me old man," Grey muttered. Though his tone was teasing, there was an affectionate smile on his face.

Lillian nodded and smiled. "It was so exciting and terrifying at the same time. Maybe nothing would happen, maybe we'd be one of many bands that never got any traction. But maybe... Maybe we'd get lucky."

"It was kind of a relief too," Rayne added, gesturing with the skewer in her hand. "Like, we did it! We made our first song, and did our first video, and were gonna show it to the world. It felt really real right then. All our hard work."

"Yeah... And remember what I said?" When they all shook their heads, Crystal chuckled and poked the fire hard enough to send a flurried shower of sparks into the air. "I said it felt like a change was coming. For better or worse, something big was about to happen."

"Right, right! We'd either succeed in our dream or fail absolutely, with no in-between. That's what you said, yeah?" Grey sighed, patting his full stomach. "I remember. Man, that was heavy. I couldn't even sleep that night, you know?"

"Is it happening again?" Lillian asked, her voice even softer than usual. "That feeling?"

"Yeah. I've felt that way all day. I thought maybe it's cuz we never did anything as big as this, renting a house and doing a whole video shoot on location, that maybe I was worried about how ambitious our idea was, but..." Crystal bit her lip, poking the fire again. She made a point of avoiding their gazes, focusing on the burning embers and crackling logs. "I think if we stay here tonight, there's no going back."

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Then, quietly, Rayne whispered: "Are we in danger?"

"It's not like that. It's just... A massive change, that feels... Overwhelming. This is bigger than the previous time."

"Bigger than chasing our dream?"

"Yeah."

Rayne reached over to grab Crystal's hand, while Grey hopped up and sprawled across Lillian's lap despite her protests. He just laughed and said, "What's that matter? No matter what happens tonight, tomorrow, or whatever! We'll get through it together like we always have. You and me, sweethearts. Us against the world!"

Crystal smiled and gently squeezed Rayne's hand. "Yeah. We'll be fine, no matter what."

Once dinner was finished, the fire fully smothered and the leftovers packed away for later, everyone did rock-paper-scissors to determine order of bathtub usage. One by one, they soaked away their worries, changed into the pajamas they brought, and crawled into one of the master bedroom's beds.

As midnight ticked over, a single shaft of light from the full moon filtered through the room's lacy curtains, illuminating their peaceful faces. The sleeping occupants remained blissfully unaware of the tendrils of fog creeping along the ground, emerging from the forest to wrap the entire house in a dome of mist.

Several hours later, as the first rays of dawn burst from the horizon, they were finally awoken by a piercing scream.

[woodsywizard]

There’s so much power in names. There’s really a reason you can’t give the fae your name-people understood the power of it. Names are so important to me as a trans person because of lots of reasons, but part of it isnt just that but also just,,, the power of it all. I mean, people have multiple names, nicknames, pet names. Names you call in anger, like full names or middle names. There’s so much ascribed or achieved identity in a name-it’s how youre viewed, how you’re defined. The name is a definition of the being, the way you’d give life to an entire thing by naming it. Who named the mountains early on? That must’ve been something. They were always so powerful. Giving something a name isnt just any old act-it’s an act of putting into being their identity and soul in one word. It’s the word you’ll call to at night to bring them back from the dead. It’s the word you’ll hear people singing to each other to say I am here and so are you! And you are a being with a defined soul-something to call to. We call each other’s names with such Power that I refrain from even using them without need sometimes.

I think realizing my deadname wasnt my real name was one of my earliest journeys pre puberty as a trans guy. It’s funny, really, because my deadname means ‘little girl’. My parents were heartbroken when I told them I had a name and it wasn’t that. I didn’t ask them to call me by it for years after I told them because it hurt too much to speak. But I knew early on there was no room for a name like what they’d given me in a life like mine. It wouldn’t ever define me the way I was-it would define the person they thought I was. At like 9 or 10 I played a childrens game online where I still has no access to trans info or resources but I called myself a new name every week until it stuck. And it stuck hard. It was just the letter B. I’d always felt so strongly about it. Something in that letter was romantic to me. Nothing like the cold unfeeling deadname I’d begun to associate with Fake Me, the me my parents believed they knew. But B, that was a letter. I also went online by he/him pronouns at that age without knowing anything more than the warmth I felt from it. The euphoria. I explored names and identity and the power of a definition really well when I wasn’t tied to anything but my words.

But when I grew up a little more I realized B wasn’t fully suitable for me out loud or in full. I wanted more of a mouthful of a word, and I wanted it to fit. I sought to define myself singularly, which is what I believe everyone could try to do if they find themselves trapped in a name they can’t agree with. But what’s in a definition of a name? How do you call yourself one little word-a made up word you use to call yourself by, to put on forms, to respond to heart and soul? It was a very rough road ahead of me. I knew for a fact it had to have a prominent B, somewhere in it. Of that, my identity would never feel more secure. But what sort of names fit that? I tried all the American names for B and it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Apparently not many Americans took on plant names starting with B as the definition of their being. And calling myself Berry didn’t feel right. But I was always very drawn to nature, inherently more so than to people. So when I looked, I looked for nature names. And having recently read the picture of Dorian gray, it sort of hit me when I read it. Basil. I read it wrong, really. I’d never heard it pronounced out loud. Bay-zill, I thought. That’s a definition. It even sounded kind of fancy and gentlemenly, a name I could take to class.

Finding my name was a bit of a strange thing. It’s not like building something out of clay-it’s more like I already had a pre existing statue, but it was covered up in all this rock I had to chisel away to free it. And once I’d torn the rock away and revealed the art of self understanding, there was an expression of my identity in two syllables. Basil. A name I could follow behind when it was carried on the wind. A name that has made going to places selling tomato basil soup or plant stores very confusing for me. A name that leads to every other American I meet instantly not knowing how to pronounce it because I’m clearly not British either. And a name that has led to lots of confusion for people trying to help me with forms because it’s clearly not the one on most of those.

But there’s a reason it matters to me. It was very hard to figure out that name. It took so much chiseling. I am sure this is the one I can’t give the fae. And my middle name-even that ones special to me. I took it from someone who doesn’t accept me for who I am, but whom I still love very much because I’m always a fool trying to please the circus. I have a name, and it’s not the one my parents stuck to my forehead in an attempt to define me. It’s something I worked for. And I don’t think being trans is the only reason people should do this. I really truly believe finding yourself a name to be called by is something inherently human. Changing your name is often allowed for anyone, but I don’t recommend doing the legal stuff until you’re down pat on it. It’s a journey, not a race. Figuring each little piece out took me like three years when I started questioning it. I had lots of fun weird in betweens and nicknames I still use, but I think finding a label you can stick on forms with no discomfort is really appealing. I think names are powerful things, and calling to them by their true forms is the best way to reach the person asking you to. I don’t think it’s evil that my parents secretly deadname me. But it certainly means I’ll never be willing to share a part of that life with them. Il never feel comfortable or safe around them when the topic comes up. I told them who I was, and rather than listen or ask questions they told me I did not know myself as well as they did, though I knew I’d been lying to them for years to keep up that identity they thought I had. I dont trust them fully with myself anymore-it’s guarded off from them. They’re calling to a deity who doesn’t exist, praying on the grave in vain of a living person walking around who just doesn’t vibe with a definition they gave me. They also defined me as Catholic. That one didn’t go too well either. They’re still hoping on that one too though. I bared my soul to them as who I am and they responded with rejection of it until I would conform to their definition. Unfortunately, I tried very hard and couldn’t manage, so I was dead to them forever on this topic.

Anyway, yeah, I don’t care if you’re cis or trans or questioning or anything, finding a name you vibe with even if it’s just to give yourself a new nickname is really rewarding. Dont neglect self reflection too badly in the name of being normal if it means denying a little fun pet name you can try like those hallmark movies. And if you find out in the end of all that introspection you’re exactly where you started, that’s all the better! You have a lot less paperwork to do! :) Cherish the names that come by and fit into parts of your life when they do, because human beings are only ever changing and to maintain something through all that change is a feat for even the earth.

[slippinmickeys]

An Evening at the Petit Trois

This is something I wrote for my first Fic Exchange. The prompt I got was “Mulder and Scully's ex-lovers are jealous of the loving relationship they have now.”

She turned her head away from the door quickly, hoping her movement was inconspicuous.

It wouldn’t do to let the two of them see her. As it was, she didn’t have much to worry about – they only had eyes for each other. She’d been sitting at the bar of one of the newer, more upscale establishments on the outskirts of Georgetown. It was trying a little too hard to be French –  black and white tiled floors, zinc bartop, dim lights, mirrors everywhere. It was full tonight – the bar was packed, and the tables were hard to get. They were led to a table in the corner where they’d both have a view of the entrance – as a former agent herself, she knew cops hated having their back to the door.  They must have had a reservation. He was dressed like he’d just come from the office – well cut charcoal suit, cornflower blue dress shirt --but he’d taken off his tie and looked casual, relaxed. Like there was nowhere he’d rather be. The woman had obviously gone home before their date – had taken the time to put her hair up, freshen her makeup. She was wearing a low-cut grey cardigan that showed off her décolletage and high-waisted black pants that hugged her waist but loosened as they went down, turning flowy and skirt-like. Her trim ankles sunk into simple, but expensive-looking black pumps. Fuck-me shoes. “Fuck me,” she said to herself, watching the two of them in the mirror above the bar. The man reached out and grabbed the woman’s right hand, his thumb playing with hers. They hadn’t even glanced at their menus. She couldn’t help but emit a soft, weary groan aloud.

XxXxXxXxXxX The man sitting next to her at the bar turned his head towards her upon the sound. He’d sat down 30 minutes after she had and had kept to himself. She liked him already for that – she came here to drink, not make small talk or get hit on. He caught her eyes in the mirror behind the bar and then followed where her gaze had been directed. He cut his eyes quickly back to her. “New love, huh?” He said, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Disgusting,” he added, with a small but charming smile. “I don’t think it’s that new,” she said dejectedly, which caused him to cut his gaze back towards the couple and she saw his eyes round, as he sat up straight. She was suddenly interested. “You know them?” She asked. He nodded his head toward their reflection. “My ex,” he said, still looking a bit stunned. She breathed out a loaded sigh. “Mine too,” she said, eventually. “No shit?” He asked, eyebrows reaching for the ceiling. “No shit.” He held out a hand then, introducing himself. “Ethan Minette.” She gave his proffered hand a firm shake. “Diana.” “Can I buy you a commiserative drink, Diana?” Diana looked at the dead soldier in front of her and thought of the several others that had come before it. What was one more straw on the camel? “Why the hell not.” Ethan motioned the bartender over and before she knew it, two new drinks had appeared in front of them. She felt raw seeing Mulder; scraped and exposed. When the Smoking Man had helped her fake her own death, she’d felt clear and unfettered, free to go off and live life with a clean slate – at least emotionally. Working for the Syndicate wasn’t exactly the recipe for clean living. She stole one more glance at them, sitting at the table moony-eyed and resplendent. Leaning in toward each other, small smiles on their faces. He didn’t even take his eyes off of her when the waiter came by to take their drink order. Mulder had never been like that with her. The way Mulder and Scully were around each other, it was so… intimate. They were like twin binary stars in their own unique orbit. Nobody else was getting in.   “He thinks I’m dead,” she said on depressive sigh. Ethan gave her an odd look, then blew out a loose raspberry, leaning back in the tall barstool. “I know what you mean,” he said, “she acts like I never even existed.” XxXxXxXxXxX

“God,” Ethan said, “she looks… luminous.”

They were at least two more drinks in—Diana had stopped counting—and had eased into the comfortable barstool familiarity of shared loss and excessive drink.

Diana looked at her own reflection, the laugh lines coming in around her eyes, her graying hair. Her eyes were drifting down to her sagging bosom when Ethan made a move to turn towards them.

“Maybe I should go say hi,” he said, swaying a bit on his stool.

Diana reached a hand out to steady him.

“NO!” She said, a little too forcefully. Ethan threw her a look. “No,” she said again, a little more measured, “let’s not… interrupt… that.”

He turned back to the bar and gave his drink a long look.

“She’s so pretty,” he said quietly.

She was pretty, Diana ruminated. Luminous, like Ethan said. She hadn’t changed since she was in the academy (Diana had kept tabs). If anything she just got more beautiful as she aged. Right now she was positively glowing. She wondered vaguely if Scully kept a portrait of Dorian Grey in her fucking attic.

“What’s he got that I haven’t?”

Diana opened her mouth just before he said—

“Don’t answer that.”

Mulder and Scully’s food arrived at their table and they dug in. Mulder made an ecstatic face over his first bite and extended a forkful to Scully, who took a mouthful slowly, her eyes never leaving his. It was tender, sensual—Diana could sense the shift in tension from all the way over at the bar. She had to turn away.

“What happened with the two of you?” Diana asked Ethan.

“She got a new assignment at work. Some weird detail – I don’t know specifics. She stopped having time for me. For us. It’s almost like I faded away.”

Some weird detail was right – she’d give him that. Diana’s own time on the X-Files had shown her the depth of the stranger things of the world.

“How about you guys?” Ethan nodded to Mulder’s reflection.

“You could call it a divorce,” she said, but didn’t elaborate. Ethan glanced at her and she lifted a shoulder. “Of sorts,” she finished lamely.

“Where’d you guys meet?” Ethan asked her.

“At the FBI,” she said.

“You mean he’s an agent, too?” Ethan asked, his dander up once again. “I knew I should have talked her out of joining. I thought it’d be good for her, different.”

He had no idea. Diana thought of Scully’s file. Of everything she’d been through since joining the X-Files, and felt a pang of something like sympathy, like regret. She watched Mulder reach across the table and tuck a lock of Scully’s hair that had come loose from her chignon behind her ear. The sympathy faded away, but the regret held on.

“You didn’t move on?” Diana asked him.

“Did you?” He countered.

She’d tried. She had.

“Not exactly a person you can move on from…” Ethan said then, indicating Scully, but she only saw Fox.

She gave Ethan a sympathetic, melancholy smile.

The bartender stopped by again, and they looked at each other and nodded. When life gives you lemons, add vodka.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Diana had to pee, but she didn’t want to run the risk of running into Scully in the bathroom.

“Is he allergic to anything?” Ethan then asked her, his words getting a little slurry. “We could send it to their table.”

Diana snorted. She was feeling a little slurry, too.

“Rational thought,” Diana answered, and Ethan gave a high pitch giggle.

“They make a good couple, then,” he said on a burp, “because that’s all she’s got.”

Mulder stood then and made his way to the restroom and Diana fought off vague pangs of jealousy in more ways than one.

She watched Scully in the mirror, as she tucked her chin toward her chest, a secret smile on her face. Scully sat up then, seeming to feel Diana’s eyes on her and she turned toward her.

Instead of looking at Diana, however, her eyes found Ethan’s profile and she narrowed her eyes in almost-recognition.

Mulder chose that moment to come back from the bathroom and instead of retaking his seat, he slid into the booth next to Scully and she paid no further attention to the two dispirited souls at the bar.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder signaled for the check and Diana closed out with the bartender, paying for Ethan’s drinks as well.

“Thank you,” he said to her, squinting a bit, though full of sincerity.

Mulder and Scully stood from the booth and Mulder took her coat from the waiter and helped her into it, all manners. Once she was buttoned up, he took her by the lapels and tucked them tenderly up under her chin. She canted her head back and gave him a dreamy smile.

Diana grabbed Ethan by the shoulder and leaned her head into him as Mulder and Scully passed behind them, shielding their faces from view.

“It’s been nice meeting you, Ethan,” she said softly into his ear, realizing that it had been. She felt like herself for once, if not herself with a headbuzz.

“You too, Diana.”

Once Mulder and Scully had left the restaurant, Diana made a beeline for the restroom.

Washing her hands after using the facilities, she took a good look at herself in the antique mirror, the dull patina lending a yellowish pallor to her skin.

Had it all been worth it? The choices she’d made? The acts she’d committed?

She realized that they had been, just not for herself.

As she made her way from the restroom to leave, she saw Ethan, still sitting in his barstool dejectedly. She caught eyes with the bartender, who inclined his head at the man.

She sighed.

“Come on,” she said to him as she approached, “let me help get you home.”

Ethan nodded and slowly stood without a word.

They made their way outside and she turned to him.

“Can I call you a cab?” She asked him.

He shook his head.

“I can walk,” he said and took a slow 360 degree turn before heading down the sidewalk to the north.

Diana caught up with him after a few steps and grabbed his elbow.

“You’re sure this is the right way?”

“85 percent,” he said and plowed ahead.

“I’ll walk with you,” she said, not wanting to be responsible if something happened to the guy. The police would check receipts from the restaurant and security tapes and she wanted no part of that.

The restaurant had a currently empty outdoor patio adjacent to their parking lot, the tinny sound of Edith Piaf wafted over them from some hidden speaker as they passed by. Ethan paused by a small copse of trees, just past the lot.

“Hold on,” he said, “I need a minute. I think I’m going to be sick.”

He stumbled into the shadows of the trees and sat down heavily, holding his head in his hands. Diana stepped in beside him, careful not to get too close, lest he get sick on her shoes.

Ethan began taking deep breaths, probably trying to stop the world from spinning and she looked around, movement catching her attention by a car not far away.

There was a couple huddled close to each other in between cars in the lot, and after a second she realized that they were swaying, the woman’s hand in the man’s, dancing to Edith Piaf in the dusky, buzzing light of a parking lot lamppost.

It was Mulder and Scully. Of course it was.

She felt the clasping grab of jealousy, squeezing her so tight that tears formed in her eyes, threatening to fall, to let loose the torrent inside her of humility and regret. She clenched a fist and refused them.

The song ended then, blessedly, and Mulder brought Scully’s hand to his lips. She leaned back against the car door though they were still huddled close, saying their goodbyes.

Diana could hear them and knew that she was unseen and she willed Ethan to not get sick and call attention to their whole tableau.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight,” Scully said, her voice low. “I know it’s not our usual.”

Mulder moved in even closer, nudging her.

“You deserve it,” he said, his voice like gravel.

Diana knew that voice. Remembered it and felt a pang of something, sad and desiderate.

“We’re getting audited tomorrow, Mulder,” she said, “anybody about to go through that deserves it.”

“Speaking of, I’m expensing the whole dinner,” Mulder said, taking another step towards her, backing her into the car.

She smiled up at him.

Ethan gave a small groan at her feet, and she looked down. He seemed to recover himself.

When she glanced back at the agents, Mulder was just dipping his head down, and he started taking small, sipping kisses at Scully’s lips. She reached up and ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head, pulling him down even lower.

Mulder took the edges of his long trench coat and wrapped them around Scully’s shoulders as he kissed her, cocooning her in his embrace. His kisses were tender, reverential, and Diana knew then what she’d always suspected: any chance of ever getting him back was gone. Lost to the ether where love resided – something she never had with him – never would.

Their kisses grew more passionate and Diana knew that she should look away, but couldn’t.

Scully leaned back, their lips parting on a smack.

“Come home with me, Mulder,” she said in a husky voice.

Mulder simply nodded at her and smiled, leaned down again to resume their kiss, reaching around her to pull open the car door.

“If we’re going,” he said, nuzzling his face into her neck, “we need to go now, or I’m going take you right here against this car.”

Scully whipped the keys out of her pocket, even while her head was thrown back and pressed them into Mulder’s hands.

They spoke no more and tumbled into the car, practically peeling out of the parking lot and on into the night.

Ethan groaned and rose to his feet.

“I think I’m okay,” he said, finally. “I think it’s time to move on.”

It was.