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anarchy-n-glitter · 3 years

Text

RE: Betrayal

Summary: After surviving long enough through her own personal hell, Jolene begins to experience what life has become for those outside the mines, and she begins to worry about her old friend Zoe.

(Warnings: Referenced sexual assault, gore, graphic depictions of violence, abuse)

PART 2

CHAPTER 4

The next few years were an awful, never-ending cycle of torture for Jolene. She was forced to stay within the confines of her new bed, trapped within the white walls of the mines. The sheets she sat upon were scratchy against her bare skin, and within these few weeks, cuts and bruises had emerged on her skin. This, however, was not because of her sheets. Lucas did this; one of her best friends since childhood and one of the few people she actually trusted. Within time, she felt like a fool. She felt cheated. But most importantly, she was broken.

He came in every other day. He didn’t just want sex, but most of the time it was that, or it was something that would lead to sex later on. Again, it was a viscous cycle she was subjected to on the daily. Jolene missed the sweet taste of freedom, she missed her family and her friends (her old friends, that is, not the ones she barely recognized). Lucas, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to realize that what he was doing was not helping him in any way, shape, or form. He loved her, he had all along. This infection had given him the strength to do what he had wanted to do all along. He wanted to make her his, and in his messed up state of mind, this was the only way to do it.

The next time he came in, she looked as if she could be dead. Lucas thought that she was sleeping at first, but then he realized that she wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t have cared less at first, but then something within compelled him to save her. With a groan, he made his way to her. Leaning over her limp body, he silently searched for any signs of life. He was able to find a pulse. It didn’t take too long for her hand to shoot up and reach for his neck successfully, her small hands wrapping around his neck and squeezing. His hands grasping at her arms as she threw him down onto the bed.

“The key.” She spat.

“Where’s the fucking key for this thing?” She then moved her foot so he knew what she meant. His eyes began to bulge, but he refused to blink. No matter how badly she wanted to snap his neck, she couldn’t do it, and he knew she wouldn’t; because they both knew that she couldn’t kill him, or else she’d die in there.

His eyes began to roll back and his eyelids lowered, forcing her to let go. She was still on him, though, as he gasped for air and tried to claw away from her.

“Where is the key, Lucas?” He weakly reaches for his pocket, where he extracts a ring of keys. Hastily, Jolene grabs them and immediately got to work on the shackle on her leg. Lucas sat up and pulled himself away from her to watch her struggle to find the right key, and when she did she was going to get severely punished. They jingled as she went through them, trying her best to jam it into the cuff on her ankle, only to find that it wouldn’t fit and move on to the next key. And repeat.

Each time she would look over her shoulder, she’d see Lucas standing in the middle of the room, watching on, the look of anger present on his face. He was waiting. She had to get out of there. She had to get that thing off of her ankle or she’d regret it for the rest of her life. After a few moments of waiting and frustration, he began to move toward her.

“Don’t you fucking come near me.” She practically growled. Lucas visibly jumped back as he saw it. Her teeth were bared, and he could see the fangs that had grown in. Her veins were showing through her pale skin, but they weren’t the usual color of veins. He soon realized that his dear Jolene was turning. If he wasn’t careful, she might actually be able to hurt him. He knew he had to work fast. If Jolene was turning she’d soon be under Eveline’s influence… and he couldn’t have that, could he?

Jolene shook her head and groaned in pain. She could feel the transformation happening to her, and it was far from pleasant. Her muscles ached, which began to agitate her further. She tugged on her chains, which, to her surprise, began to give way. The metal piece attached to the calcified salt wall that held the chain in place moved. Half of it was bent away from the wall, and Jolene knew that if she tugged once more it’d give, then she could grab her clothes and get the hell out of there. However, she was so focused on getting the chain loose, she didn’t see Lucas walking toward her again. She was stronger now, and if she learned to control this new power, she’d be out of there in no time. He grabbed her by the shoulder before shoving her into the wall head first, causing her to partially revert and curl into a ball, holding her head with both her hands. Lucas grabbed her hair and pulled her up to look at him.

“You dumb slut.” He spat before shoving her back into the mattress. Her instincts kicked back in and she felt her fingers burn and ache as her nails grew into what could only be described as claws. As he snatched the keys back up, Jolene lunged at him like a ravenous animal. She had cut his right hand open, which prompted another angry response from Lucas.

“I swear to god, girl! If you don’t cut it the fuck out, I’ll fuckin’ kill ya.” He warned and shoved the keys back into his pocket. He grabbed her hair again and her hands flew up to grab at his, as if it would lessen the pain. He pulled back, forcing her head up to stare at him.

“I don’t know why I even bother tryin’ to keep you alive.” He spat, venom dripping in his voice. He stared at her for a long time, observing to see if she had any fear left in her, to see if she would keep fighting. Despite her terrified exterior, he could see a glint of defiance shining in her eyes. He had to work fast and he knew it. He threw her down again, like a rag doll. She landed face first into the mattress, but she remained there. She didn’t look up to see that he had left. Instead, she turned her head toward the wall, laying her cheek on the scratchy sheets. A single tear dripped down the bridge of her nose. ‘It was worth a try.’ She told herself. She thought about this long after he was gone. How he could have killed her while she was looking for the damn key. And yet, after everything that has happened to her, she still couldn’t believe that this was happening to her. Despite what she’s seen, despite what she’s endured, she wondered if she was better off dead. She stared at the undone sheets in somewhat of a daze. She really didn’t want to die, but if it were to get away from Lucas… maybe it wasn’t that bad.

A few days later, Lucas returned. He was in much better spirits than the last time they had seen each other, and he was hiding something behind his back. Normally, something like this would scare her, but she welcomed it. Whether it be good or bad. Maybe it was a way out, or it was just something to prolong the torture.

“Jolene, sweetie, I brought something for ya!” He giggled sadistically. She felt as if her disgust and distain for him was radiating off of her. He, however, was not stopped by her lack of a response. He had a plan and he was going to go through with it, and he wasn’t going to let her trick him again. He stood by the end of the bed, facing her relaxed form.

Lucas then brought the two items in front of him, as if to present them to her. She refused to turn over still. In his hands was an oversized t-shirt and a leather leash, complete with a collar.

“C’mon Jolene, get excited! I’m takin’ you for a walk today!” He exclaimed. She looked over her shoulder to see what he had brought her, and her heart leapt into her throat. The first thing she had saw was the t-shirt, and she was immediately overjoyed. She hadn’t gotten to wear clothes in years, and there he was, presenting her with a shirt for her to wear.

She turned over completely and sat up, but that was when she saw the catch. He could see her excitement disappear at the sight of the leash and collar. He smiled and picked up the collar, twirling it around his finger.

“Now, ya didn’t think I’d just let you roam free, did ya?” He taunted. She closed her eyes. Clothes in exchange for wearing a stupid collar? It was worth it, she knew that, but why did she still feel gross about wearing the damn thing?

She didn’t say anything.

“I’ll let ya put the shirt on first, think of it as a gift.” He giggled again.

“After all, isn’t it your lil brother’s birthday today?” He asked tauntingly. She looked up at Lucas, fear striking through her.

“Adam?” She asked. He burst out laughing.

“So ya can talk! I thought ya lost your voice for a couple seconds there. Ya know, after all that screamin’.” He winked, implying that she was yelling for more than just help, which was far from the truth. She felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“Why did ya bring up Adam? What did ya do to him?” She asked, this time more sternly. Lucas tossed the shirt to her and she caught it, holding it against her chest as a cover.

“Nothin’ yet. Just listen to me and nothin’ will.” He warned. Jolene slipped the shirt over her head and let it fall over her. It was much longer than she expected it to be, and when Lucas helped her off of the bed to stand it fell down to just above her knees. He wrapped the collar around her neck and fastened it, before putting the leash on it. Then he took the key out of his pocket. Jolene watched and realized that the key to the shackle was never on the ring of keys and he saw that as some game too, even if it infuriated him.

She put her left leg down onto the floor and Lucas tugged at her leash.

“C’mon girl, we got places to be!” He shouted gleefully before dragging her toward the metal door, where she’d see the outside world again after years of being underground.

CHAPTER 5

He led her down winding tunnels of white, where fluorescent lamps secured by thin wires were their only source of light. He walked ahead of her and kicked away any molded that got in their way. Some were large, standing at seven feet tall with skin that was bubbling and melting away. Others would crawl on all fours. They were much smaller and faster than the other ones. Lucas had a harder time fending them off compared to the tall ones. All of them reeked of rotting flesh. The mere sight of the molded creatures struck fear into the heart of the poor girl. She had no clue what they were, and she had no plans of being acquainted.

Soon, they would reach an elevator. Lucas pushed the red button on the right side of it, allowing the cage-like door to open the small space before them. It seemed to screech in protest and nearly got stuck at one point. Jolene looked over at Lucas wearily, and he merely smiled and gestured for her to enter first, which she did without any fuss. She got to go outside again; she could get out of the stuffy mines.

He was quiet the whole way up, lost in thought. He knew that Jolene would be seeing Eveline sooner or later, and he didn’t want to explain to her what he was doing with a girl locked in the mines; especially if she was a candidate for the family. Lucas wanted to avoid this at all costs, Jolene was his and no one else’s. He had what he wanted and Eveline was going to have to pry her dead body from his hands if she got to her.

That was another thing. If, and only if, Eveline managed to get into Jolene’s head Lucas would have no choice but to kill her. His whole cover could be blown if Eveline was lurking in her head. Not to mention that the research conducted by The Connections and himself suggest that Eveline could still kill those infected, even if they weren’t under her influence.

The elevator rattled and screeched as its rusted foundations struggled to bring the two up. Jolene felt anxiety bubble up within her as she thought about why Lucas was actually taking her out of her little room in the mines. Perhaps he was finally going to kill her, despite how many times he told her he couldn’t do it no matter how hard he tried. She knew that, under the right circumstances, he’d be capable of it and he’d do it in a heartbeat.

After a few more moments, the elevator stopped. The door slid open again, rattling loudly in the process. This time, Lucas stepped out first, tugging on Jolene’s leash as he moved farther away from her, causing her to stumble and trip on her own feet.

The mines soon became a cleaner area with an actual tile floor and drywalls. Jolene’s jaw fell open as she gaped in surprise. This whole time there had been a lab underneath the Baker estate and she had no clue about it. They had been building this place over her head almost the whole time she was there.

“What the hell?” She muttered to herself, drawing the attention of Lucas. He didn’t look back at her as he spoke.

“Take it in, baby. Now ya know where I’ve been when I wasn’t with ya.” He told her in a smug voice. She walked a bit faster to catch up with him. For once she wanted to look him in the eyes as she spoke to him. She wanted straight forward answers.

“What do ya mean?” She asked. He looked at her and realized she didn’t look like the meek, scared woman she was in the mines. If he wasn’t careful she could be dangerous. He’d have to break her down again.

“Better wipe that look off’r yer face before I do somethin’ that these nice people wouldn’t want to see.” He warned. Jolene furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“What do-”

“I said cut it out!” He shouted. Jolene gasped in surprise and tried to back up. Lucas tugged on the leash harshly, knocking Jolene over onto her knees. When she was on the ground he grabbed ahold of her hair and forced her to look up.

He saw it then, the look that she had in her room in the mines. The fearful eyes, ones that were filled to the brim with fear. He felt relieved and almost overjoyed at the sight. Her small, cold hands were enveloping his own cold hand that was wrapped around a clump of her hair, and he felt the electricity of her touch. He felt as if he could hear her heart beating; beating faster as the seconds passed. His own blood began to flow throughout him, unbearably warm and fast.

“L-Lucas, yer hurtin’ me. Please, please stop.” She begged. She continued on with the begging, but it was all white noise as Lucas tried to control himself. He tried to remind himself that he would get in trouble if he took her right then and there, despite how little he cared about the rules. He was looking for every reason not to act on this impulse he felt, and her begging made it worse. He pulled her up, holding her small frame against his as he brought his lips to her ear.

“Ooh baby.” He groaned, causing a shiver to run up Jolene’s spine.

“Keep beggin’ like that and see what happens.” He continued. Jolene went limp, knowing that if she tried to struggle, tried to get away, he’d just get angry with her again. His left hand trailed up the back of her thigh, the rope from the leash leaving brief, ghostly touches on her leg, making its way to the hem of the shirt she was wearing. She knew that she was indecent underneath but she knew she wouldn’t do anything to stop him.

She felt him grow hard against her and felt her stomach lurch at the idea of him taking her there. She wanted nothing to do with him and she wanted to push him away, tell him to stop. Yet she knew that he wouldn’t stop. If she pushed him and ran he’d strangle her with the damn leash.

The hallway was silent. They were the only two present and Jolene assumed that anyone who was there were either dead or working in one of the doors. Lucas’s groaning and panting echoed through the corridor, bringing a blush to Jolene’s face. ‘What if someone hears him?’ She thought to herself, feeling embarrassed by the thought of someone walking out to see them.

“Lucas.” A voice cut through the air like a sword. A sword to slay the dragon. Jolene’s head turned and she looked at the source of the voice, ready to cry out for help.

There was a man standing there. He was tall and thin, but, unlike Lucas, he wasn’t deathly thin. He seemed healthy enough. He had short brown hair that was swept away from his face, not quite slicked back but it was enough to keep it from being a liability in the lab. He wore round glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. He glared at them coldly.

“Please, I’d advise you not to do… whatever this is… in the middle of the hallway. Some of us have places to be.” He scolded. Jolene could hardly believe it. She thought for a brief moment about trying to call for help again, but her voice got caught in her throat.

“Ah, Dr. Reed, I’ve been lookin’ for ya. I got somethin’ for ya.” Lucas told the man as he turned Jolene around and shoved her toward the man. Dr. Reed simply looked at the girl at his feet as she slowly got back up. He took note of her condition; pale skin, black-colored veins. He knew that she was infected.

“And why, exactly, are you bringing her to me?” Dr. Reed asked as he stared Jolene down.

“Well, ya see, I’ve had this little thing going with her for the past two weeks and, uh, I’d rather not have Eveline intervene in that.” Dr. Reed looked up at Lucas finally, glaring at him as he put the pieces together. He didn’t exactly like Lucas, or the things he’s implying he might have been doing to this girl, but he could admit he was a bright man and had a future at The Connections… even if he was insane.

“So what do you want me to do about that?” He asked Lucas, who simply laughed.

“C’mon doc, I want ya to whip up some of that good stuff ya made for me.” Lucas replied.

“The serum?” He responded.

“Yeah! That stuff.” Dr. Reed yanked the cord of Jolene’s leash out of Lucas’s hands, and suddenly Jolene felt a glimmer of hope. He wrapped the leash around his fist and led her through the halls, toward two, large double doors.

The room itself was clean and simple. It had a blue, white, and green color scheme to it and it had a metal observation table. There was a counter with a sink and a few laptops set up along it. There were empty test tubes set up near the wall on the counter and a clipboard next to those. Jolene felt a bit intimidated by the new setting, but hoped that maybe the doctor could pull a fast one on Lucas and help her escape.

“Ma’am, would you mind sitting on the observation table?” Dr. Reed asked. Jolene nodded and walked over to the table before hopping onto it. She watched as Dr. Reed and Lucas whispered to each other and wondered what the hell was going on.

“You don’t want Eveline to know about her?” The doctor asked.

“Course not, she’ll want her to herself.” Lucas responded. Dr. Reed merely sighed.

As their conversation dragged on, Jolene felt her head become fuzzy. Her surroundings took on a greenish hue and everything bled together when she would look around. She felt as if she were going to pass out. When she thought things couldn’t get weirder, she saw a little girl standing in the doorway. Dr. Reed went to shut the double doors and Jolene wanted to warn him, but something prevented her from doing so.

A faint whispering filled her head and grew louder every second. As the doors swung closed the girl disappeared, but they reopened again, this time the gap was slightly smaller than the gap before and the girl was there again, staring at Jolene. When the doors closed again she was gone, as Jolene expected. However, she wasn’t there when they reopened either. Jolene took in a sharp breath, but the men didn’t seem to notice.

The girl appeared in front of Jolene, and she jumped back.

“Who are you?” The girl asked, her voice sounding like it was the loudest in the world. Jolene winced at the pain it caused her. The girl looked around, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” Jolene answered. The girl turned her attention back to Jolene.

“Are you lying to me?” She asked.

“No.”

Jolene’s rambling caught the attention of Dr. Reed and Lucas, causing Lucas to panic. Dr. Reed rushed over toward one of the drawers and grabbed a syringe.

“Now she knows where we are!” Lucas shouted. The doctor nodded, waving Lucas off as he reached into the fridge and pulled out a container filled with a dark green liquid. He uncovered it and stuck the syringe in, drawing the liquid into the chamber. He then rushed over to Jolene who, at the sight of the doctor, returned to normal. The girl was gone and her vision had cleared. She looked up at Dr. Reed, her head and eyes feeling heavy.

“W-what was that?” She asked. The doctor didn’t answer, instead, he plunged the needle into her neck and released the liquid into her. She sat still and let the warmth flood her body before passing out.

CHAPTER 6

Jolene woke up a few hours later with no recollection of what had happened before she passed out. She remembered leaving her room, and she remembered the large, tar-like creatures that seemed to inhabit the mines.

Her head felt light and she sat there for a few minutes as she watched the world around her spin. She didn’t remember what happened and she didn’t want to remember. A voice could be heard from outside the door. It was low and spoke in a harsh whisper. Jolene went to get up, but realized that her ankle was shackled to the bed frame again. She closed her eyes and listened.

The words were muffled, seemingly bleeding together into one long word that made absolutely no sense. From the slight accent she realized it was Lucas and all she could do was close her eyes and hope he wouldn’t come in. She hoped that he was leaving and got caught up with other things. She hoped that whatever he wanted to do he had already done.

Then she heard it; the one name that brought hope back into her, the one name that reassured her that everyone was there.

“Zoe.”

Jolene sat back, leaning against the salt walls to think about the girl she had completely forgotten about.

She couldn’t believe it. From the sounds of it, Lucas sounded pretty pissed off about her, and Jolene wondered what it was that she had done.

She thought of her as she knew her, hoping that she was the same bright eyed girl she knew. She thought of her thin, pink lips that were always curved into a smile when she was around her. Her eyes, those beautiful grey eyes that Jolene would give anything to see again. Then there was her pale skin that would tint pink on the warmest days of the summer.

Jolene stopped and realized that she was looking back on Zoe as if she were in love with her. It was funny, after all, she did always favor Zoe over Lucas, and it wasn’t just because he was slightly… unpleasant. Jolene never thought about it before, how she never really understood the drama in school over guys. She had convinced herself that she just wanted to focus on school, but deep down, despite how deeply it was buried, she knew that wasn’t the reason.

The door burst open, causing Jolene to jump in shock. Lucas stood there, looming in the doorway like some monster that lurked in the dark,

(Like the real monsters that lurked in the mines)

huffing angrily and bearing its teeth. He stared Jolene down, scanning her face for an emotion, any emotion. In reality, he was looking for a reason to take his anger out on her. He wanted to blame his failures on her.

The traps were destroyed?

She did it.

Someone escaped and now dad was mad?

Her fault.

Some of the molded got into the labs and now a guy went missing? And they blamed Lucas?

Jolene killed him.

But he knew it wasn’t that simple. Jolene had been sleeping this whole time. Hopefully she was cured. Dr. Reed had told him that she needed to stay in the labs so he could observe her and make sure she didn’t reject the serum. Lucas declined and carried her over his shoulder back into her room in the mines. As he carried her away, he ended up confirming Dr. Reed’s suspicions.

He looked at her, seeing the fear in her eyes, the horrified look of a victim. He smiled maliciously at her, as he approached the bed. The door remained open.

She brought her knees to her chest and pressed herself up against the wall as much as she could as he inched closer to her. Her breathing became ragged as fear coursed through her veins. Now she was sure she wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted to distract him, she had to think of something quickly.

“Why’d ya mention Zoe? Is she here?” She asked without thinking. Lucas glared down at her, anger boiling back up.

“All I wanted was to forget about that stupid bitch and now you’re bringin’ it back up!” He yelled in her face. Jolene flinched as his hot breath hit her along with small specks of spit. She calmly wiped her face off before speaking again.

“I won’t just drop it, Lucas. I heard you talkin’ bout Zoe and now I wanna know.” She demanded. He groaned angrily, rubbing his face in the process as he stood up. Jolene was treading on dangerous ground, and she was still visibly frightened, but her constant questioning couldn’t go without punishment. She watched him pace, stomping around like the infected from all those years ago.

“She’s alive?” Jolene asked softly, hoping that her tone would calm him down.

He acted without thinking again. In the blink of an eye he was on her, his right hand wrapped around her throat. He looked in her eyes as she grabbed at his hand, silently pleading for him to let her go. Zoe was getting in his way again, and he’d be damned if he let her take Jolene away from him.

But it wasn’t Zoe who was taking Jolene from him.

She began to kick, first at him, then anywhere she could. She realized that if she kicked hard enough, she could take the chain off of the wall, like she had almost done before, and maybe then she could use it as a weapon.

She wanted to die, but there was still a part of her that wouldn’t let go. The part of her that urged her to survive, to get out of there and see her family again, go to college and live her life. She refused to let Lucas win.

“Quit kickin’!” He yelled, his other hand reaching out behind him to grab ahold of her left leg. She avoided it and continued, her head beginning to pound. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the lack of oxygen or something else, but it hurt like hell. Her jaw ached, as did her fingertips.

Her mouth opened and a strained cry came out. Her eyes were closed tightly in pain as something tore through her gums.

Blood. She tasted blood.

Her fingers felt like they were being set on fire.

She could have sworn something was crawling through her lower back.

Lucas looked at her as she screamed in pain, thinking it was all his doing. Tears fell from her eyes and he found himself smiling. His breathing quickened and he found joy in her agony, watching her writhe in pain, gasping for air and trying to get away from him. He could end her, but torturing her would be much more fun.

Then it happened. He felt something sharp dig into his hand. He looked down to find blood flowing from where her fingers were attached. He let go of her throat and tried to yank his hand away from her grasp, but soon realized that her nails were inside him. He took a closer, albeit more panicked, look at his hand as it gushed blood.

The crimson liquid pooled onto her bed, soaking the scratchy sheets and the mattress. He wanted to be with her, didn’t he? Now he had no choice. His blood was there; he’d be with her as long as she remained in that room. He gasped at the sight of her long, black talons protruding from his hand. They had gone right through.

He wanted to scream, to rip her claws out of him and run, but he knew what state she was in. If left unattended, she’d escape.

(Or she’d die trying)

She pulled him closer and bit into his neck, allowing her fangs to pierce his skin. This time he did scream. He put his good hand on her head and tried to push her off of him, but it didn’t work. She simply bit down harder, which caused him to lift his hand from her head. Her other hand reached up to grab his, and she had effectively pierced through his other hand.

She then pushed herself onto him, knocking him over and onto the bed, where she hovered over him, her teeth still buried in his neck. Blood gushed from within her mouth and bubbled down the side of his neck.

She was stiff on top of him. She looked like she weighed nothing, yet here she was, holding Lucas down like she was a boulder. Her claws were buried deep inside of Lucas’s hands and the mattress, effectively pinning him onto the bed. She hoped that she could keep him down long enough so it’d take him a while to heal… even if she knew he’d come back to hurt her even worse later.

He couldn’t speak. He could feel the blood pooling in the back of his throat. Her teeth dug deeper into his flesh and it was a sharp, searing pain, causing him to open his mouth. It was as if he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. So he sat there, with her on top of him practically ripping his throat to shreds, his mouth open and gaping like a fish out of water. He couldn’t lift his arms; her strength had increased due to the mutation that occurred. If Lucas wasn’t being attacked, he would have quickly realized that her mutation was triggered by stress. Sadly, however, he probably wouldn’t have stopped if he knew this.

Jolene felt tired. Her mutation normally took a toll on her, and this was the longest she had ever been able to maintain this state. Her jaw loosened and more blood gushed from the wound. There was a strangled cry that came from Lucas as her claws slowly left his hands. Jolene began to sit back, feeling extremely light-headed. Her eyes felt heavy again and her eyelids began to close. She leaned backward, finally falling asleep.

Lucas laid next to her, bleeding out on her mattress. She was asleep like nothing happened, his blood smeared around her mouth like makeup. He took deep breaths, unsure of how to react to the situation or how he would address it next time he saw her. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought of what he’d say to her when he woke up, what he’d do to her. It was only a matter of time.

CHAPTER 7

Bright lights flashed, lighting up both the room next door and the room with both Lucas and Jolene in it. Jolene, who was laying on the floor, shifted in her sleep. She could faintly hear Lucas’s loud, obnoxious voice as he taunted someone. The lights were enough to wake her from her slumber, but combined with the yelling that was going on? She woke up.

The room they were in seemed to be by the boathouse, next to the barn. She looked at the monitors and the cameras that sat on the walls, all focused on Lucas. Next to her was a box of cameras. Some of which were cracked but others seemed fine, they were hand-held ones, and really old. Jolene wondered if any of them still worked, and she wondered if she could sneak one out with her.

“And the winner is… Clancy!” Lucas boomed as he hit a button next to him, startling Jolene. He heard her gasp and turned his head slightly to look at her, smirking to himself. He turned off his intercom and let the two men in the other room continue their game.

“Well, look who’s awake.” He said, spinning around in his chair. Jolene’s hand immediately went to her neck, where she felt the collar once more. Lucas chuckled at this.

“Did ya really think I was gonna let ya sit in here with nothin’ holdin’ ya in? After what happened last night?” He taunted. Jolene went to say something, but she was cut off by the intercom.

“I’ll stay.”

“I’m gonna stay.”

Lucas whirled around in excitement.

“And the winner is… Clancy!” He announced once more before pushing the button again, which prompted a recording of people cheering. A man groaned, which was followed up by screams of pain. Jolene jumped back again.

“What the fuck was that?” Jolene asked. Lucas smiled sadistically at her and rolled away from the monitors. He gestured her to come over. Jolene sat there, staring wide eyed at him, unsure if looking was truly the best idea.

“Why don’t ya come and look for yerself? I made sure that leash of yers was long enough so ya could…” He stopped to giggle to himself.

“Join in on the fun.” He finished. His phrasing made Jolene uncomfortable. She felt dread spread throughout her and she became sure that looking wasn’t going to be pleasant, but she knew that if she didn’t she’d have to deal with Lucas.

She looked at the screens and saw two men sitting at a table. Another screen was focused on the cards they had in front of them. They both wore bags over their heads. The men would wave their hands and ask for another card, or say that they’d stay. Jolene quickly understood what game they were playing. But what truly unnerved her was the giant saw that was placed between them. The loser would have to pay up, wouldn’t they? And what better way to pay?

“How long have they been at this?” Jolene asked, tracing her finger around the applause button. Lucas rolled back up next to her, shooing her hand away.

“’Bout an hour now.” He answered. They both said they’d stay and Lucas quickly acted. Their cards flipped.

“And the winner is… Hoffman!” He hit the applause button, but a chorus of groans came from the room on the screen. The saw began to move toward the other man, and he struggled to move away from it. Just as she thought it was going to hit him, it stopped. Its blades barely grazing the burlap sack on the man’s head. Jolene let out a sigh of relief.

“I wouldn’t be too relieved for him, princess. We still have one more round to go.” He told her as he laced his fingers together and placing his head on top and watching the screens intently. As the game went on, Lucas had an idea. He could make her deal the last blow; have her kill the loser. The idea excited him even further, and the more he thought of it he became sure he’d do it.

At last the men announced that they were done, and he called her over. She stood behind him and watched as he refrained from flipping the cards.

“Lucas, just tell em who won.” She said, annoyance present in her voice. They sat there, looking around and waiting for Lucas to come back on the speaker and tell them who won.

“Come ‘ere.” He demanded again. She refused to move closer. He reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward both him and the controls.

“Press the button.” He told her. She looked up at him, wide eyed.

“What?”

“Press the damn button.” He began to pull her hand toward the controls again. There were two buttons, one pointing up and the other pointing down. It was impossible to tell where it would be going, seeing as the screens showed the men from different angles, two of them were positioned behind a man and facing the other. Jolene looked back at Lucas, silently pleading for him to stop.

“I’m not gonna tell them who lost until you press the button.” He told her. She felt tears well up in her eyes. She wanted to resist but… she had to think about what would happen to the men if she refused.

“Lucas, please, I’ll do anything! Don’t make me kill those men!” She begged. He laughed at her pathetic attempt at bargaining.

“You’ll be lucky if I let ya blow me after this. We still haven’t talked ‘bout last night yet.” He said, not holding back at all. Her arm was beginning to become tired, the dull aching tingled underneath her skin. Lucas wasn’t going to let up anytime soon, and she knew this.

“Which one?” She practically shouted. Lucas smiled and leaned over to the intercom. He spoke without breaking eye contact with her.

“And the winner is… Clancy!” She looked down at the controls again.

“Which one, Lucas? Which one?” She yelled again.

“Up.” He answered, his grip not letting up on her wrist. She hit the up arrow without hesitation. The saw began to spin, moving slowly to the person she hoped was Hoffman. It was messed up as it was that she was hoping it’d hit anyone.

Blood flew through the air and splattered on the cameras, covering the image in small specks. Jolene flinched, feeling horrible for what she had just done.

“We’re done now? Right?” The man asked. Everything was quiet, and all of them sat there. Lucas leaned back, his lips pursed as he thought. He put his legs up on the table, each foot on the other side of the TV, so he could clearly see the screen. Jolene felt as if her and the man were sitting on the edge of their seat. She knew that Lucas was pissed at her for what had happened the night before, and this man wanted his freedom. Lucas hit the applause button again.

He turned the camera in front of him back on and sat there for a few moments, looking unimpressed. Jolene stood behind him, looking at the screen curiously.

Clancy saw her and wanted to bring it up, but decided that it wasn’t important. He had to get out of there.

Lucas began to clap sarcastically. Clancy said nothing as he stared at Lucas.

“Will you let me go now?” He asked over the sounds of Lucas’s slow claps. He shifted, bringing his legs off of the table and adjusting his position in the chair.

“You are one cold son of a bitch.” He stated, directed at both Clancy and Jolene. She felt guilty once more, knowing that she had just taken a life. Clancy felt a little guilty, but he knew deep down that it was him or Hoffman.

“Now you impressed me so much I’m gonna give you an extra reward.” Lucas said, pointing to the screen. He leaned back, pondering his own thoughts again.

“We gonna play another game, you an’ me.” He told him, his voice barely concealing how excited he was about it. He laughed. Jolene took a step back, hoping she wouldn’t have to participate in this one.

“Ain’t life grand?” Lucas asked in a sing-song like voice. Clancy shook his head frantically.

“No! I can’t take this anymore! Please!” He screamed. Lucas shook his head, chuckling to himself once more before turning the camera off. He looked over at Jolene, who was backed up against the wall near the door. He shut off all the monitors before standing and making his way toward her, stalking her like a predator would to prey. She cowered.

“Is your offer still up?” He asked, his fingers gently caressing her arm.

“N-no.” She told him.

“Darlin’, I don’t think ya have a choice.” He told her before forcing her down onto her knees.

Jolene walked through the mines with Lucas guiding her. She felt disgusting. Not only did she just kill a man, but Lucas had just forced himself on her again. He hadn’t done that in a while, and despite the many times it had happened, she would never become desensitized from it. She’d always feel awful afterward; always have this lingering feeling. Always know that she was violated and he didn’t care.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest. It was her comforting herself, yet at the same time it was her covering up what she had stolen.

In her shirt was a camera. She wasn’t sure it worked, hell, for all she knew all of the cameras in that box were broken. But she had faith. She would record a message in the mines for someone to find, maybe Zoe, or someone else who could help. That’s what it was: a cry for help. She couldn’t take this anymore. There’s only so much she could take.

Lucas shackled her leg again as Jolene shifted onto her stomach. After he was done, he laid the sheet over her small frame without a second thought. She felt her nose wrinkle in disgust and she rolled her eyes.

He left without saying a word.

Jolene sat up, taking the camera out from underneath her shirt and turning it on. It glowed a bright blue after she hit the button and a name was displayed on the small screen. She quickly flipped the small display so it was facing the side with the actual camera before turning the camera around so it was facing her.

She hit record.

“Zoe? Anybody? Please. I’m still alive, I’m here, and I know that people are probably lookin’ for me. Or at least I hope they are. I just want the person who’s watching this to know that I’m alive! I’m alive but I don’t know for how long. I… I think I’ve been infected with somethin’. I saw somethin’ the other day before I was given some sort of medicine, I didn’t hallucinate after that. But I know that I have these powers of some sort, and I don’t want to end up like those monsters out there. If anybody finds this, send help. Please, I’m in the-”

The door opened… and Lucas stepped in.

#lucas baker x oc #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 7 #lucas baker #zoe baker x oc #jolene west #zoe baker #resident evil oc #RE Betrayal #the RE Chronicles

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unabashedwriterandreader · 4 years

Text

Morning Coffee

“Jezus Kre-ISTE” I hate serving gnomes.”

Kristi was muttering over the espresso machine again. Her dreads were covered today, that was saying something. Usually I had to make her bag it in a plastic hair net and even then the Health Department wouldn’t have liked it. Still, it was hard to find good help, or any help for that matter this close to the Industrial Parks where all manner of fae, gnomes, gorgons, dwarves orcs and even demons worked.

“We live to serve.” I pushed a stack of bourbon glazed cinnamon rolls into the display case, inhaling deep. Sam, our resident Satyr and full time pastry chef had the touch. Those rolls wouldn’t last two hours. My mind was calculating price. It was all supply and demand it was time to start pushing things up. The shop needed the cash.

There was a gargoyle that came in every morning at 10:00 and bought half of a tray for his breakfast. He was a nice guy but he tended to drop the temperature in the room at least 10 degrees. I had nicknamed him Chilly but wouldn’t have told him. Nice is as nice does but you don’t want to piss off a gargoyle. There were stories of people being smuggled out of their beds at night and a pattern of dusty rock footprints left after the body napping. I think his name was Mason or Marble or something like that. Chilly was easier to remember.

“He brings in his own mug and makes me wash it. Because he wants it sparkly when he drinks his morning Chai. Seriously.” Kristi, still complaining.

I reached over and snatched the mug. It was actually a goblet, some kind of hammered metal with what looked like a giant ruby in the center. I washed it quickly and was turning it over to examine it while I dried when the gnome piped up.

“Careful with the goods there Human.” I smiled over the counter an looked down. Fully bearded with the traditional red cap lagging to one side, the customer was very short and obviously grumpy.

“Beautiful workmanship on this. One second and we’ll have it ready for you.” I increased the wattage on my smile while Kristi poured the Chai into the gnomes go cup. Or go goblet. The gnome narrowed his eyes but the right side of his lip curled under the massive white beard. Gnomes were easy, admire their craftsmanship and you were home free. Cousins to the dwarves, although you weren’t supposed to point that out, they were skilled craftsmen with all manor of metal and swords. They also made great landscapers but preferred their own design to keeping customers happy. A tough sell in suburbia but a few of them survived.

“Have a great day!” Kristi received an extra buck on the tip for that but I noticed lately I was the only one playing nice with the customers. Didn’t matter, I needed to keep her. Even part time this shop didn’t run it’self. We did well until after the lunch rush but for all intents and purposes we were a bakery and after 2:00 business was done for the day.

Lately I’d worked myself into exhaustion. Getting up at 4:30 to get the dough started and prepping for whatever meager servings we’d have for lunch. I was going to have to cut the menu to one offering and hope the customers didn’t take it to hard. THey’d have to placate themselves with pastry because I was running on fumes even with Sam doing everything he could to help me.

“I am NOT waiting on that Volva anymore either. She smells bad.”

I sighed. It was going to be one of those kinds of days and I was already tired. “It’s not her fault she’s been dead over 500 years, that’s just the way volvas are made.” I, personally, liked Karen even if she was mildly odiferous. Personally, I thought the pixies were worse because they always broke something before they left what with all the racing around and chasing after each other.

Kristi began to pout and tug at her dreads under her doo rag. THey probably itched.

“Good morning ladies, any chance of getting a hot chocolate to go? Extra whipped cream?” The voice was so deep the glass in the display case began to rattle. I turned and looked up into the glowing red eyes of Nick, a demon and a regular.

Nick scared the hell out of Kristi so she hustled back to the kitchen to hide.

“What else can I get for you Nick?”

“Mixie, I’ve told you before, don’t make offers to the underdwellers. Some day I’m going to tell you what I want and you, my dearest human, will run screaming from the room.”

“You can’t have my soul Nick, I owe it to the landlord here and the bakery so it’s already taken. And I”m maxed out on my credit cards so unless you want a pair of heavily used nike’s or my grandmother’s grocery store china, I got nothin’.” I smiled at him and handed over the hot chocolate.

Nick, who was seriously good looking in that red skinned demon fashion, flashed fang at me and growled. “Your soul is a pure as the driven snow Mixie and I would love to spend some time ruining it for you. Face it. You’d love it.”

I swiped Nick’s credit card and gave it back, still smiling. “Not today Demon Spawn, not today.”

We had this conversation regularly. And while Nick was ever so tempting, he was just that. A Demon, so therefore, tempting.

By the lunch rush hour Kristi had gone home ‘sick’ with a case of the “I can’t wait on orcs, they stare at me like I’m fresh meat.” and I had to make do.

By 5:00 I was dead on my feet and the shop was wrapped up for the evening. I walked up the stairs wearily to my loft over the bakery glad, once again, for the short commute. I was asleep on the sofa 30 minutes later still smelling slightly of flour and espresso splatter since I’d made most of the drinks that day.

The phone woke me at 7:00 and I crawled to it trying to kick both shoes off and wriggle out of my filthy jeans knowing I needed a shower and something real to eat before I headed to bed. At 8:00. Like a good little human. Ugh.

#humandemonandcoffee fantasyhumor

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captainkurosolaire · 5 years

Text

Prime Time ~ Budokai 2 ~ P1

The deciding day had coursed pendulum. A clock in an Estate stopped. Before the remaining click, clack, swinging was heard. Two competitors. One brimmed in leather, unkempt, rugged. A rascal of vandal, you called. Other drew refinement, sturdiness, suave, A pillar towering above, you called. Seeker Keeper Moon Sun Dreamer Realism Self-Strength Others-Empowerment The stadium was lit to them in Estate of Elune. The focus drew, this was day-on. Anticipation was fleeting, it was time to check in. Each drawing respectively to exchange words. This is where rivalries built off. Philosophies construing and spewing this was tension incarnate. The settling of storms was in age aggression until today, cause here stood an eclipse. Only one could navigate out, that would be the decider; the winner.

......

The devilish cheeky-grin rogue picked his words wishing to explain why this was taking place. This grudge far as could be seen wasn’t of past events but the victorious would raise a symbol of who was correct. -- To the acts of flawed humanity, odds aren’t uncommon. The transgressions of indifference have taken placed through all forms of existence. It’s staggering to believe there isn’t a plane that lacks this issue. “I don’t hate ye because you’re a Noble. Contrary, It’s I pity you. Cause ye weren’t ever given the chance to know the meaning of what’s value! You never known because you’re swarmed with price upon entitlement. But you do not hold a single thing to the heart. That is why I loathed you. That’s why we even cross steel. You knew the Seas, but you were against the current. You held no purpose among or care. Yer nothing but a single fancy, land-lover in the flesh. This is why I will break your defenses. In-doing so, I break the shield. The one that oppresses and jails those who believe themselves above, that deem themselves ‘Elite’ that spit at those who haven’t yet stepped. ~ BUT THEY CAN! ~ I’ll show em... This is me breaking the chains all throughout the realm of those who haven’t fought or pressed back. I was a shite-faced orphan that could’a held more hugs and kisses from a mommy n’ daddy like the rest akin to my boohoo story, alas, though I was carded with th’ substance of nothin! I still am, nothing. But now... I carry the weight of all those who are every bit, ‘Something’. And they b’ what measures my determinate value Cause you see, They r’ my true power!” Hands of deft curled into a hilt staining the palm from abrasive roughness. His Grade One weaponry was inadequate, outdated. Though there was hope blooming in them. These had been resharpened, reforged as had their holder, dozens of times over.

Although these words held merit. They weren’t entirely plausible, for you see. Not all changes are visible. Especially to an out-looker; just because the seasons are known, does not mean they are inclined to constantly be warm, or cold. Nature is that of a Beholder. A fanged canine laughter expunged out of the debonair in white. “Dull.” He sounded, a pause in-between his words of inquisitive design. “That is what you’ll prove. It’s what you’ve always have. You couldn’t break me, I have never used more than twenty-percent of my full-prowess against you. I was the one who had pitied you, I have allowed you the presence of mind. This contest between us, this isn’t some game. This is me taking you to reality. I am tired of your dreaming ways, its utterly vile with those in hearing... There will always be a hierarchy. This is not for debate its been residing in beast and now here we are with our current dwellers. This is the Order you steer away from. You do not understand the basic conceptions of why things exist. You question and act like that of a spoiled brat, searching to imagination for answers or newly to set a narrative. This is not a role-play, this is not some charade to be had. Weak will always be below heels and groveling in jealousy. Do what all the rest have learned, turn it into a fetish. I do not idly care, long as a place is learned.” This battle hadn’t yet started as traditional ones with shredding of skin and a bludgeon of blows, it already began off along their tongues. A jagged stare between both advisories.The tension could be cut with a knife. The contrast, Yin & Yang met. Only the mediator could decisively draw their closing words to a halt. A referee in garments from the former First Budokai brought forward attempting to keep blood warm by rushing his palms against the forearms. Once picking up it was his cue. He thunderously drew the mic, making flamboyant motions to signal his personality before shouting in outcry towards the audience in the stadium, “This is the Second Annual Budokai our final bout is one between Noble vs Pirate. -- Officially dubbed Freedom vs Order! We shall see a momentous battle right here.

On one side we have the Captain of the Goldbrand, a pariah of the seas who has constantly been proven the underdog in this match. He has yet to truly take a directive W, over his opposing side. Though he stands here on his home opponent’s own home-field advantage in Coerthas where his potent frozen arts will be proven to be tipped in favor. This is a proven challenge, to him this holds far more meaning to win. He has stated it before, this isn’t for him. This is an act for those oppressed, may this performance and battle be one to bring the key of hope to those misfortunes.

Across from there is Lord Shiro Elune. He has never lost a confrontation or been outwit by the Scoundrel’s slimy ways. He was trained and groomed in the cruelest of manners to be absolutely one of the Ishgardian Elite, the select faction that are born from the Pillars. You may see them as arrogant and narcissistic but I assure you they have deplored the backing to all claims. Perfectionism is an understatement to them. They define it. They practically breathe it. For the bloodlines and legacy demands it. He strictly is here to display a lesson of realism. Both of them differ far-between. The banners are black and white across the board. However, one thing remains the same. As all battles and wars begin, this is between Right and Wrong -- Pride is here! The rule is simple: Should a man falter to the ground for longer than ten-seconds they lose. They must make the count before then. This is all but a last-man standing to see their resolves contested. This is not to breathless death only to who can rise and stand tall!” Caught between the metaphorical Wolf and Lion. The referee placed a positioning arm between the pair but held a curled fist. When titled and palm was left exposed, that was the sign to begin. Both men ignored the entire thing only staring dagger glares they were still arguing and bickering between mute. The smallest interval drew their heads to their own respective loved ones and attenders. Before sinking back and hearing the howl of wind, after the settle. The palm and a shouting voice drummed.

“BEGIN!”

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big-dick-grayson-energy · 6 years

Note

Can u make a fanfic where choni is living happily in the future, and one day Toni proposes to Cheryl? I love ur writing btw!

I’m just gonna post it here and I’ll upload it to archive of our own when it’s back up and running. Sorry this took so long. I wrote most of it weeks ago and then finished the rest a little while ago.

“Why do we gotta be on Skype for this part?” Sweet Pea asked from his little square corner of Toni’s Ipad while he rocked his newborn daughter in his arms, his hair slicked back the same way it had been when they were younger, the only difference now being it was a little shorter.

“Shouldn’t you be whispering or something, bro?” Fangs countered their friend’s question from his corner on Toni’s Ipad, seemingly in bed. He’d been working on growing a beard for the past 3 months, and it was finally starting to be a little less than what Toni classified as a ‘struggle beard’, and she had to admit it looked good on her baby faced friend.

“Nah, see I figure if she learns how to sleep with noise then we ain’t gotta walk around the house on pins and needles.” The oldest of the three Serpents explained, softly patting his daughter’s back now as she squirmed.

“I don’t know if that’s how that works.” Fangs raised an eyebrow, “Tiny, you’re the deciding factor here.”

“He’s actually right.” Toni sided with Sweet Pea, “It’s solid, my aunt did that with all of my cousins so it’s not like you’re going to scar her or anything.” She told her boys as she applied eyeliner in her bathroom mirror. The idle conversation was good. They’d done all of the brainstorming, and she heard all of the pep talks she needed from them. Now they were the distraction that kept her from losing her shit before Cheryl got home.

“Whatever. I’m not planning on having kids anytime soon anyway. Toni’s next on the block for sure. The tune ain’t wrong: First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the ginger with a baby carriage.” Fangs grinned into the camera like a fox and Toni rolled her eyes, “Let’s get the marriage thing out of the way first.” Taking a step back, Toni surveyed herself in the mirror and then presented herself to the two men who would forever be her boys.

“A+ Tiny Toni.” Sweet Pea said with a smile, “And if Izzy was up she’d agree with me.” He told her as he rubbed her daughter’s back.

“Yeah, I’d say yes if you got on one knee. You look hot. You could ask me to knock a guy off and I’d say yes with you wearing that.” Fangs agreed.

“Thanks guys.” Toni told them graciously, and for the 100th time, glanced at the clock on her Ipad. Cheryl would be due home in about 20 minutes.

“This is it, the last outfit you’ll be wearing as a single woman.” Fangs started, but Sweet Pea cut in, “She hasn’t been single since like junior year of high school, what are you talking about, you dope.”

Fangs sucked his teeth, “Technically a person is single until they are engaged and or married.”

“How can you be engaged and married?” Toni asked, the same hybrid of an confused and amused expression on her face as most times when she had a conversation with Fangs.

“You can ask my uncle Leo. He was engaged to Roxanne while he was still married to my aunt Pearl.”

The other two Serpents laughed, this one for Toni especially feeling like a release of nerves that built up as fast as she got rid of them it would seem.

“Come on, Toni. Tie breaker. Who’s right?” Sweets said when his laughter subsided, “Ummm I’m going to have to go with Sweets again, Fangs. That doesn’t sound so legit to me.”

“Eh, you two are in cahoots. I know what I’m talking about. Whatever. Let’s focus, we gotta get you engaged. Let’s see the bra.”

“Let’s not see the bra.” Sweet Pea argued, and Fangs countered, “Come on, man. We’ve given you the thumbs up on the make up, the outfit, the hair, we gotta make sure your lady is peeling off something worthy of the occasion later tonight, know what I mean? We’re grown ass men and there’s nothin’ on any of us the other hasn’t seen, don’t make it weird now.”

“I’ve got that covered, Fangs. Don’t worry. She will be very happy with what’s underneath here. If she says yes. There’s no guarantee.”

“If? Come on. We both know she’s saying yes. You’ve been together since we were literally teenagers, we’re 28, and Sweet Pea is like 80 or something.” Fangs told her, and Sweets narrowed his eyes, “If my hands weren’t full I’d flip you the bird.”

“It’s okay, buddy I can use my imagination. Back to you, Topaz. Don’t be dim okay? This is just you getting a chance to flex your romance muscles. You’ve got this. The next time we talk to you, you’re gonna be someone’s fiance’ and when the time comes for the cake tasting, remember you promised me I could come with.”

“How could I? You won’t let me forget.”

________________________________________________________________

Cheryl’s day had been a long one; not particularly tough, but time seemed to drag, so by the time she got home all she wanted to do was cuddle up to her girlfriend and spend the rest of their evening together being grossly domestic. She was running a little late (because of course she was) and anticipated finding Toni in sweats at her workstation touching up photos with a glass of wine while dinner stayed warm on the stove, or her girlfriend watching one of the many reality tv shows she dubbed as her guilty pleasure. The thought had the redhead smiling softly to herself, imagining what she anticipated seeing on the other side of the door.

In high school, (even before that, but especially after Jason died) Cheryl had too much bad happen to her that she didn’t have any real hope that things would change. She was a Blossom, and that meant she was cursed. When they were children, Cheryl and Jason made something of a joke about it, scoffed at it even, but by the time she was 17, she wasn’t scoffing anymore -- in her mind, the Blossom curse was all too real. At her very lowest, Cheryl felt so hopeless that the most logical solution was to end her life. She counted herself lucky that Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Jughead had come to her rescue because it almost physically pained her to think that she could have missed out on the life she had now. Not only was she in love, in a happy and healthy relationship, but she was well on her way to being a legend in the business world, thriving in both her personal and professional life.

What she found instead of the mental images conjured when she walked into her apartment was dim lights, soft music playing, three boxes on the coffee table in the living room along with a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket and Toni looking like an absolute dream. “Toni? Did I forget something?” Cheryl wasn’t one to forget things like anniversaries or birthdays so she was thoroughly confused. Her girlfriend walked over to her and handed her a champagne flute then greeted her with a kiss, “No, you didn’t forget anything. Except maybe that I like to keep you on your toes. Surprised?” Toni asked as she helped Cheryl out of her coat.

“Are those my favorite Belgian chocolate truffles?” Cheryl asked as she moved further into the living room and noticed the box that sat near two white, unopened and unmarked boxes.

“Yeah, they are.” Toni smiled proudly as she hung Cheryl’s coat up near the door, then joined her hopefully soon to be fiance’ in their living room. Cheryl picked up a truffle and took a bite, moaning instantly at the taste and brought the remainder to Toni’s lips, who accepted the confection happily.

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything?” Cheryl teased. It had taken her a long time to get where she was when good things happened to her, where she wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to fall. Cheryl from as little as two years ago would have been freaking out thinking Toni had done something that needed her forgiveness, buttering her up before she dropped life shattering bad news on her, but now she could just enjoy the good things in life instead of worrying about how long they would last.

“Not yet.” Toni answered cryptically, then took a healthy drink from her flute, nearly finishing it in one swallow, “Can we play a game?”

Cheryl raised an eyebrow, “A game? Is it the kind of game we play in the bedroom?” She asked, her voice dropping an octave or two in a tone that she knew made Toni weak in the knees every time.

“It’s the kind that leads to the bedroom.” Toni told her, heart picking up it’s pace for more reasons than one.

“Then I’m in. What’s the game?” Cheryl agreed and finished off her champagne before putting down the glass and sitting on the couch.

“It’s called three objects and a question. Don’t ask me how to play, it’s pretty self-explanatory so I say let’s just jump in. Object one.” Toni removed the lid of the first white box, and inside was Cheryl’s Serpent jacket, well worn and distinguishable from Toni’s because of the specially sewn crimson red interior.

“My Serpents jacket? You got it out of storage? Why?” Cheryl questioned while she picked up the garment and held it to her nose, a wave of nostalgia hitting her from the smell alone.

“I was so afraid for you when you decided to join the Serpents. So against it for so long, but then you told me why you wanted to join, because you wanted to be my family, because you wanted to be connected to me forever, because you loved me and who I loved and what I am and you were so adamant about it, so sincere and willing...you hadn’t even told me that you loved me before that and I don’t think there’s been a better way anyone has been told in the history of the world.”

“You were pretty pouty at first. But it didn’t suck having me as your partner in crime, did it?” Cheryl mused as she laid the jacket over the arm of their couch.

“No it didn’t. Still doesn’t.” Toni winked at Cheryl, the simple action causing the pale woman to blush a bit. Sometimes she swore even after years with Toni, she still felt like she had a crush on her girlfriend, she didn’t even know if that was possible or if it was just the power of Toni Topaz, but figured it was the latter.

“Object two.” Two moved on and pulled the lid off of the second white box, revealing a diary, more specifically, Cheryl’s diary from their senior year of high school.

“Is that…?” Cheryl asked, her jaw dropping slightly and she picked the pink book up with delicate care, first running her fingers over the front, then flipping through the pages, stopping at one in particular. Pressed inside the book were flower petals. The page chronicled Cheryl’s first date with Toni and the petals were a physical reminder of that night as even when they started to wilt, she couldn’t find it in herself to just throw them away.

“Yeah. You gave it to me after we had that huge fight.” Toni started and Cheryl picked up, remembering that time in her life all too well. When the redhead thought back to it, she classified it as still being caught up in ‘that darkness’. Life was getting better then, but there was still so much looming over her, and she’d wanted to ask Toni to move away with her, go to school in the same city if not the same university because she didn’t want to lose her, but she couldn’t so she lashed out and they fought. A few times. “I was having the hardest time expressing myself, but I couldn’t lose you, not over something like me not being able to tell you what I needed you to know about how I felt so I left this on the doorstep of your trailer. It was very ‘Cruel Intentions’ of me, but it’s not a secret I’ve always had a flair for dramatics.” She took a beat to just flip through the pages some more, skimming over words the girl she used to be wrote.

The redhead got caught up in her diary and when she looked up, brought out of her bubble by Toni’s voice and the words “Last object,” she was met with the smaller girl on one knee, a white velvet box open in her hand with Nana Rose’s heirloom ring inside, only with a noticeably larger diamond attached to it. Cheryl gasped in surprise, her chest visibly rising and falling, “Toni…”

“Cheryl Marjorie Blossom: Delicate as flower petals, tough as leather, I am so in love with you. From the first time we met I couldn’t get you out of my head. Granted, not for the best reasons in the world, but the fact still remains the same that you made an impression. For all of the time I’ve known you, you’ve been nothing less than sensational and my life is undoubtedly better with you in it. When we were teenagers you told me that you wanted to be my family and that’s exactly what we’ve become. Now I want to make it official. Will you be my wife? Please marry me, baby.”

Cheryl Blossom had long ago mastered the art of the silent tears. The skill was learned out of necessity, of fear of someone seeing her as weak or fear of her mother chastising her for showing emotion, but it was only ever with Toni that she found herself crying silent tears of joy.Cheryl nodded furiously and wiped the tears from her cheek.

“Yeah?” Toni asked, letting out a relieved breath as she waited for verbal confirmation.

“Yes! Yes! Of course, yes!” Cheryl confirmed, dropping her hands in her face and letting out an excited squeal before Toni pried her left hand away and slipped the ring on her fiance's finger.

They both admired the ring on Cheryl’s finger. Toni had always been a bit of a deep thinker, so the notion of marriage wasn’t something she entered into lightly, the ring and all it symbolized being an effective tool in choking her up in that moment, as it was a symbol of never ending love; their never ending love. There was no beginning or end to it.

“I love you so much, Antoniette Topaz.” Cheryl told her soon to be wife with a sobering amount of sincerity as moist light brown eyes looked into equally moist dark ones, “I can’t wait for you to be Antoinette Blossom.” She finished.

“Umm…” Toni started, and Cheryl cracked a smile as she slipped her arms around Toni’s neck, “I’m kidding, we can hyphenate, of course.” The redhead leaned in, teasing her lover by hovering her lips close enough to just not quite make contact, then caught Toni’s bottom lip between her teeth, sucking gently before she kissed her properly, wanting to make their first kiss as an engaged couple count.

“I think I remembering you mentioning that this game leads to the bedroom.” Cheryl reminded Toni, the look in her eyes impossible to mistake as anything less than one meant to entice.

“You’re remembering correctly.” Toni confirmed and bit her bottom lip as her eyes took in the sight of the woman she’d fallen so hard for and hadn’t stopped falling for since -- her fiance’.

“Then take me to our bedroom.”

Without hesitation, Toni grabbed Cheryl’s hips and picked the redhead up, who wrapped her legs around the smaller girl’s waist, while she crashed their lips together for a heated kiss, that particular display of Toni’s strength never failing to drive her wild.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Toni said rushed, not wanting to separate their lips for too long. As they made it to the threshold, both women could hear Toni’s phone vibrating incessantly on their coffee table, “That’s probably the engagement group chat wanting to know the verdict.” Toni explained in between planting kisses on Cheryl’s jawline.

With her index finger, Cheryl pushed Toni’s face up towards her by her chin, “They can find out later. We’ve got a game to finish.”

The End.

#choni #cheryl blossom #toni topaz #fanfic #requested #three boxes #Anonymous

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hotvideo · 7 years

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“Green Eyes” (1978)

A MOVIE-OF-THE-WEEK THAT RAISES AWARENESS FOR ALL THE KIDS SPAWNED FROM AMERICAN HOT SAUCE DURING THE VIETNAM WAR, AND HOW A LOT OF THEM ENDED UP HOMELESS, GLUE-SNIFFING ORPHANS.

BACK IN VIET-FUCKING-NAM, MAN, IF YOUR NUMBER GOT CALLED, IT MEANT YOUR ASS. SOME GUYS TRIED TO BEAT THE DRAFT BY GOING TO COLLEGE OR KNOCKING UP A GIRLFRIEND AND GETTING MARRIED; OTHERS TRIED TO COP SOME RAGTIME ABOUT BEING BORN WITH FLAT FEET OR SHOWED UP TO THEIR ARMY PHYSICAL IN A DRESS, BUT THE CHANCES OF THOSE METHODS WORKING WERE SLIM TO NONE. AS THE WISE OLD NEGRO SAYETH: MAN SAY GO, YOU GO.

I DON’T KNOW IF VIETNAM WAS THE FIRST MODERN WAR BEHOLDEN TO THE LAWLESS SPIRIT OF SEX, DRUGS AND ROCK’N’ROLL, BUT IT WAS CERTAINLY THE FIRST WAR SOLD AS SUCH. FOR THOSE OF US WHO WEREN’T THERE, WE’VE HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO WATCH PLATOON ENOUGH TIMES TO KNOW THAT AMERICAN SOLDIERS IN VIETNAM COULD ONLY PROCESS THE HORRORS THEY WITNESSED DAILY– AND, IN MANY CASES, CONTRIBUTED TO – WITH THE AID OF BOOZE, DOPE, MOTOWN AND SEX WITH PROSTITUTES. WHAT WE THE PUBLIC HAVEN’T FAMILIARIZED OURSELVES ENOUGH WITH IS STORIES ABOUT THE AFTERMATH OF THAT HEDONISTIC DEATHFEST, AND WHAT WAS LEFT BEHIND AFTER THE LAST U.S. CHOPPER FLED SAIGON. “GREEN EYES”, ALTHOUGH TOLD WITHIN THE FRIENDLY 1:33:1 FRAMEWORK OF TELEVISION, ATTEMPTS TO SHED SOME LIGHT ON THIS PERIOD.

THE FILM BEGINS IN THE BACKWOODS OF SOME COUNTRY BUNGHOLE, WHERE PAUL WINFIELD (A HERO AIN’T NOTHIN’ BUT A SANDWICH), A CRIPPLED VIETNAM VET, PAYS A VISIT TO THE HOME OF ONE OF HIS BUDDIES FROM THE SERVICE. IT’S A LITTLE SUPRISING WHEN THE PERSON WHO ANSWERS THE DOOR IS WHITE AND DOESN’T CHASE PAUL OFF WITH A 12-GAUGE. YEAH, THE PARENTS OF THIS DEAD SOLDIER MUST BE QUAKERS COS THEY LAY ON REAL THICK WITH THE OLD “OUR SON WAS KILLED FOR NO REASON” BUSINESS. PAUL, JUST BACK FROM HIS TOUR OF HELL, TELLS THE BEREAVED THEY’RE WRONG. DEAD WRONG.

IT’S BEEN SAID THAT THE BOND A SOLDIER MAKES WITH ANOTHER SOLDIER IS DEEPER THAN ANYTHING HE’LL FORGE ANYWHERE ELSE, EXCEPT MAYBE PRISON. PERHAPS THIS REFLECTS THE GENERAL OUTLOOK OF SOLDIERS, WHO, BY AND LARGE, ARE IMPARTIAL TO THE POLITICS OF ANY WAR THEY FIND THEMSELVES FIGHTING. IDEOLOGY IS FOR POLITICIANS; FOR EVERYONE ELSE, SURVIVAL IS THE MAIN MOTIVATION.

PAUL RETURNS HOME TO THE SOUTHSIDE OF SOME POOR AMERICAN CITY AND CAN’T CATCH A BREAK. NOBODY WANTS TO HIRE HIM BECAUSE HE’S A CRIPPLED VETERAN. WHEN PAUL GETS TIRED OF PLAYING PINBALL WITH THE OTHER JOBLESS MOTHERFUCKERS, HE BEGS HIS MAMA TO GIVE UP HER “KNEES MONEY” SO HE CAN RETURN TO SAIGON AND REUNITE WITH THE MOTHER OF HIS CHILD. MAMA HAS A COW, URGING PAUL TO FORGET ABOUT THAT CHAPTER IN HIS LIFE.

“No half-breed child of a Chinese slut is gonna throw out what I done spent my whole life scrubbing toilets for.”

-Mama

BUT PAUL CAN’T GIVE IT UP. THE BABY BOY, HE’S BEEN TOLD, HAS GREEN EYES JUST LIKE HIM, AND IT’S HIS MISSION TO FIND HIM.

PAUL GETS HIS ONE-WAY TICKET BACK TO SAIGON, WHERE SOME GRAINY STOCK FOOTAGE IS INCORPORATED BY THE FILM’S EDITORS BECAUSE “GREEN EYES”, MADE AFTER SAIGON HAD CLOSED OFF TO THE WEST AND BEEN RENAMED HO CHI MINH CITY, WAS MOST LIKELY LENSED ON AMERICA-FRIENDLY SHORES LIKE THE PHILIPPINES.

PAUL TAKES A CAB TO A SECTION OF SAIGON KNOWN AS “SOUL ALLEY”. THIS IS WHERE HE AND OTHER BLACK G.I.’s STAYED DURING R+R STINTS.

A BUNCH OF LITTLE THIRD-WORLD EXTRAS MATERIALIZE, KNOWING PAUL IS AN AMERICAN AND MIGHT HAVE PENCILS AND CHICLETS.

PAUL FINDS THE APARTMENT WHERE HIS BABY MAMA STAYS, BUT NO ONE’S HOME.

HE CHEERS UP WHEN HE’S GREETED BY HIS BABY MAMA’S COUSIN, FANG. THEY PROCEED TO DO A CONVOLUTED HANDSHAKE SLASH BOOGALOO THAT PAUL NO DOUBT TAUGHT THE LITTLE SLOPE LATE ONE NIGHT WHEN HE WAS HIGH ON REEFER.

FANG INVITES PAUL IN TO SPEAK WITH MAMA-SAN, BUT SHE’S TOO DISTRACTED TRYING TO FISH A BUFFALO NICKEL OUT OF HER TEA TO ANSWER ANY OF PAUL’S LINE OF QUESTIONING.

TROUBLED AND RESTLESS, PAUL TAKES A WALK TO CLEAR HIS HEAD. HE FINDS A PARK AND SITS DOWN. ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, PAUL GETS PROPOSITIONED BY A FRIENDLY LADY OF THE NIGHT. HE TELLS HER HE’S TOO BROKE TO FUCK; IF HE NEEDS A TUGJOB LATER, HE’LL DO IT HIMSELF.

WHEN THE CHICK SPLITS, A LITTLE KID COMES OVER AND TRIES TO HUSTLE PAUL, PRETENDING THAT HE’S SEEN PAUL’S CHILD. THEN HE STEALS PAUL’S ARMY JACKET. PAUL CHASES HIM, BUT WITH HIS BAD LEG HE CAN’T CATCH UP.

THE NEXT DAY, PAUL BEGINS CANVASSING THE UNDERBELLY OF SAIGON FOR HIS BABY MAMA. HE STOPS AT AN ORPHANAGE, WHERE HE MEETS THE DIRECTOR, AN ENGLISHWOMAN (RITA TUSHINGHAM, THE KNACK... AND HOW TO GET IT) WHO OFFERS HIM ARMY RATION LEMONADE.

SHE GIVES PAUL THE SKINNY ON ADOPTION IN SAIGON, A SOUL-CRUSHING MASS OF RED TAPE THAT MAKES AMERICA’S SYSTEM LOOK CIVILIZED.

MISS RITA ALSO TELLS PAUL THAT HIS SON WAS MOST LIKELY ABANDONED BECAUSE OF HIS BEING PART BLACK. TO KEEP THE CHILD WOULD HAVE BESET THE MOTHER WITH A FAR MORE TRICKY STANDING IN VIETNAMESE SOCIETY.

AT THIS POINT, PAUL WANTS TO BURY HIS HEAD IN A BOILING POT OF PHO AND PEACE OUT. HE DISTRACTS HIMSELF WITH A COMBAT FLASHBACK, THE CLASSIC DRIVING-DOWN-SOME-COUNTRY-ROAD-AND-HITTING-A-LANDMINE NUMBER.

THREE-QUARTERS OF THE SPECIAL EFFECTS BUDGET DOWN THE TUBES.

PAUL NOTICES THE PALLETS OF CHEAP CLOTHING IN THE MARKETPLACE ARE ALL MARKED WITH THE SAME STENCIL.

PAUL VISITS ONE OF THE ORPHANAGES MISS RITA MENTIONED. HE FINDS AN OVERCROWDED ROOM AND A BUNCH OF UNSUPERVISED KIDS TEARING THE PLACE APART.

WHEN PAUL APPROACHES THE ADULT IN CHARGE, HE FINDS HE’S SPEAKING TO A FUCKING BLIND PERSON. DAMN. SUBTLE.

PAUL WRITES A LETTER TO HIS MAMA, TELLING HER ABOUT THE THINGS HE’S SEEN IN THE ORPHANAGES, AND THE KIND OF POVERTY THAT DOESN’T COMPARE TO ANYTHING HE KNOWS BACK IN AMERICA.

THIS IS THE PART WHEN “GREEN EYES” ESSENTIALLY BECOMES AN ADVERT FOR UNICEF.

PAUL BUYS A BUNCH OF BANANAS AND FEEDS THE LITTLE MONKEYS. HE STARTS SPENDING MORE TIME WITH THEM. IT GIVES HIM A SENSE OF PURPOSE.

THEN HE RUNS INTO THE LITTLE FUCKER WHO STOLE HIS ARMY JACKET. THE KID, CALLED TRUNG, KNOWING HE’S GOT ABOUT TWO SECONDS TO LIVE BEFORE PAUL’S BIG BLACK FISTS COME RAINING DOWN, PROMISES TO HELP PAUL FIND HIS SON.

“Kid, you ain’t worth the skin on my knuckles. Where he at?

TRUNG TAKES PAUL TO A BAR TO MEET A FIXER, ONE OF THOSE GUYS WHO KNOWS PEOPLE AND HOW TO PROCURE THINGS.

THE GUY TURNS OUT TO BE PAUL’S OLD ARMY BUDDY, MIAMI BEACH. THIS CAT FAKED HIS OWN DEATH TO GET OUT OF THE SHIT, MAN. NOW HE’S BLOWING PAUL’S MIND, TALKING ALL KINDS OF TALK ABOUT HOW SAIGON’S A GAS -- YOU CAN GET ANYTHING YOU WANT. PICK YOUR POISON.

MIAMI BEACH SENDS PAUL AND THE KID TO THE COUNTRYSIDE TO RENDEZVOUS WITH THE RICE PADDY CONTINGENT.

ON THE WAY, THEY HAVE TO BRIBE SOME CHECKPOINT GOONS WITH OLD LOTTERY TICKETS TO GET THROUGH.

WHILE TRUNG GOES DOOR TO DOOR, PAUL LAYS BACK IN THE CUT AND REALIZES HE KNOWS THIS VILLAGE INTIMATELY.

ONCE UPON A TIME, HIS PLATOON BURNED IT TO THE GROUND SO THEY COULD BEAT A RIVAL SQUAD ON BODY COUNTS AND WIN A CASE OF BUDWEISER.

MORE OF THE SPECIAL EFFECTS BUDGET IN ACTION.

OBLIGATORY “NOOOOOOO” SHOT.

PAUL’S PRETTY BUMMED OUT WHEN HE RETURNS FROM THE COUNTRYSIDE. MIAMI BEACH DRAGS HIM TO A PARTY AT SOME RICH BROAD’S HOUSE, SELLING IT AS AN IN TO THE EX-PAT BREAD THAT WILL HELP HIM FIND GREEN EYES.

ON THE RIDE OVER, MIAMI’S CHERRY BENZ GETS ATTACKED BY SOME HUNGRY OLVIDADOS.

THE PARTY’S PRETTY HAPPENING. PAUL CAN’T GET OVER THE HORS D’EUVRES SPREAD, ENOUGH FOOD THE TO FEED ALL THE ORPHANS IN SAIGON. OH, THE IRONY! AND... AND LOOK AT THOSE JUGS! JESUS! ILSA, ILSA!

EVEN THE BUDDHISTS ARE SATED.

PAUL ISN’T HAVING ANY OF IT. ACROSS THE LAWN, HE RECOGNIZES MISS RITA FROM THE ADOPTION AGENCY HAVING A SIMILARLY TERRIBLE TIME. THEY CONSPIRE TO STEAL SOME TRAYS OF FINGER FOOD AND FEED THE LITTLE MONKEYS OUTSIDE THE GATE.

THIS PISSES OFF THE PARTY HOST SO MUCH, PAUL AND RITA ARE ASKED TO LEAVE.

THEY WALK THE STREETS UNTIL CURFEW. WHEN THE CLOCK STRIKES TEN, RITA SAYS SHE HAS TO GET BACK TO THE ORPHANAGE AND PUT THE BABIES TO BED. PAUL ASKS IF HE, TOO, CAN HELP PUT RITA’S BABIES TO BED. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT BABIES PAUL IS REFERRING TO, OR IF, IN FACT, HE MEANS RITA’S PRIVATE PARTS.

PAUL SPENDS SOME QUALITY TIME AT RITA’S ORPHANAGE, WHERE HE TEACHES SOME OF THE KIDS HOW TO PLAY BASEBALL. RITA TELLS PAUL THE SAD NARRATIVE OF A STREET KID’S LIFE IN SAIGON, ESSENTIALLY THAT HE LIVES ON GARBAGE UNTIL HE’S FIFTEEN, WHEN HE JOINS THE ARMY TO ESCAPE THE STREETS. FIFTEEN?! THIS GIVES PAUL A NEW PERSPECTIVE ON TRUNG AND HIS ILK.

LATER THAT NIGHT, AFTER THE CHILDREN HAVE BEEN PUT TO BED, PAUL AND RITA SMOKE SOME OPIUM AND RAP INTO THE WEE HOURS ABOUT GREEN EYES AND ALL THE COLORS IN THE SKY, AND HOW LIFE CAN BE SO FLY WHEN YOU’RE HIGH ON THIS MAGIC CARPET RIDE.

“Do you fancy a shag, Othello?”

THE NEXT DAY, TRUNG COMES OVER FOR LUNCH.

HE STUFFS HIS FACE WITH PAPAYA AND ALMOST FORGETS TO TELL PAUL THAT MIAMI BEACH HAS MANAGED TO LOCATE PAUL’S EX OLD LADY, LEI-CHAN.

“The hell you say?! Put that fruit down and talk to me, boy. That damn papaya can wait, but my son, goddamit, my son can’t...”

TRUNG TAKES PAUL TO A HELLISH MARINA WHERE INSIDE EVERY CARDBOARD SHANTY SOMEONE’S EITHER SHOOTING A SNUFF FILM OR PERFORMING A CAT ABORTION.

YES, FRIENDS, BY DONATING JUST FIVE DOLLARS A MONTH, YOU CAN ENSURE THAT A BEAUTIFUL CHILD LIKE THIS ONE RECEIVES THE BASIC FOOD AND NOURISHMENT IT REQUIRES TO SUBSIST IN THE HARSH CONDITIONS OF LIFE IN THE DEVELOPING WORLD.

THEY FINALLY GET TO THE TENT WHERE LEI-CHAN IS BELIEVED TO BE. PAUL TELLS TRUNG TO WAIT OUTSIDE.

IN THE BOOM-BOOM ROOM, PAUL DISCOVERS HIS EX. SHE LOOKS TIRED AND FUCKED-OUT. A BABY’S CRYING IN THE CLOSET. COULD IT BE?

SWING LOW... SWEET CHARIOT... NOPE, IT’S SOMEBODY ELSE’S BABY. A PILOT FOR AIR PHILIPPINES, LEI-CHAN EXPLAINS. THE DUDE WAS SUPPOSED TO SEND FOR THEM THE PREVIOUS WEEK BUT GOT TIED UP IN A MONSOON.

“Green Eyes is dead. I am sorry. He get fever. That was that. And Paul, if you like to feel better, I give you fucky fuck for ole time sake.

PAUL OPTS OUT OF THE FUCKY FUCK AND LEAVES THAT BOOM-BOOM ROOM A CHANGED MAN. PART OF HIM IS DEAD, A MUCH BIGGER PART THAN WAS ALREADY DEAD, BUT, MORE IMPORTANTLY, PART OF HIM IS NOT DEAD.

HE TAKES THE TOY HE WAS PLANNING TO GIVE GREEN EYES, ONE OF THOSE DISTURBING WIND-UP MONKEYS THAT PLAY THE CYMBALS, AND BURIES IT IN THE GROUND, UPSIDE DOWN. SEMPER FI!

PAUL STOPS BY MISS RITA’S TO SAY GOODBYE. HE ASKS IF SHE’S SEEN TRUNG. SHE HASN’T, BUT WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT THE BOY BELIEVED PAUL HAD FOUND HIS SON AND NO LONGER HAD ANY USE FOR TRUNG. ALTHOUGH HE’S WORRIED HE’LL MISS HIS FLIGHT BACK HOME, PAUL DECIDES TO LOOK FOR TRUNG AND SAY GOODBYE. HE HAILS A TAXI AND TAKES IT TO THE MOO-GOO-GUY DISTRICT.

TRUNG APPEARS SITTING ON A BRIDGE, WEARING A BALLOON ON HIS HEAD AND EATING WHAT LOOKS LIKE GRILLED PUPPY INTESTINES ON A STICK. HE ASKS ABOUT GREEN EYES. PAUL TELLS HIM THE TRUTH, THE BABY TRUNG HEARD WAS SOMEBODY ELSE’S.

“I think I have the rest of my day to hear this American story, but I only have three more seconds to finish this fried plantain before it congeals and turn to athlete’s foot.”

“Say, Trung, man, I just missed my plane because of you, man. So what’cha doin’ with the rest of your life? How about we catch a ferry out of this here and go exploring, man. I hear that Malay pussy is outta sight. Like, they know how to take care of a brother. And after that, we’ll set sail for Brazil. Man, the bitches down there ain’t even got hair... down there.”

THE END.

#tv movie #vietnam war #paul winfield #big box vhs

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spookybooscarystorytime · 7 years

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Princess | A Creepypasta

New Post has been published on http://www.scarystorytime.com/creepypasta/princess-a-creepypasta.html

Princess | A Creepypasta

Princess

Ever wondered if things can just be born evil? In this enlightened age of ours, concepts like good and evil are often painted as outmoded, archaic even. According to modern thought, people (animals too, obviously) are simply products of their environment and no more responsible for their actions than a twig in a stream. But I know better. Some things are just born bad.

About ten years ago, we had a German shepherd named Duchess that had a litter of puppies – seven in all. Six looked like any other shepherd you’ve ever seen, the seventh was a snowy white. Not a true albino, just white-furred with a black nose and blue eyes.

There was never any doubt about which one we were keeping out of that litter. We named her Princess.

Before the end of six months, any plans we had about giving away or selling the others became a moot point, as all of the others were dead. We’d just find them at a rate of about one a month, not mangled or anything, just dead as if they’d died in their sleep. At first, we thought maybe their mother, it being her first litter and all, was accidentally crushing or smothering them.

Later, we had no doubt as to what had killed them.

Within a year, she came to dominate her mother, her father (tough old alpha that he was), and to a degree, us too. Her parents shied away from her. When we put out their food, she ate till her heart’s content, unchallenged by the other two. Once I tried to shoo her away and let the other two eat. She snarled at me, baring those perfect white fangs to her incongruously black gums and loosing a growl so deep that I felt it in my guts more than heard it.

After that, I left her alone too.

I’ve often wondered if the parents of serial killers know they have a monster in the making. I mean, sure, some of them are to blame for how their kids turn out, products of fucked up households with systematic abuse of all possible flavors, but then there are the ones that seem to be true aberrations. It’s those families I’m curious about. Do they smile and laugh and pretend that everything’s fine?

I know that we sure did. We downplayed the weirdness around Princess, tried to rationalize her behavior, the bizarre things she’d do, like killing rabbits and leaving them hung up in the bushes behind our house.

“Some dogs do that to show they love you, cats too,” my father would say. “To them, it’s just bringing you food.”

To me, it looked like she was taunting us. Just like the puppies years earlier, not one of those rabbits ever had a mark on it.

Princess, just like her mom and dad, was well looked after and never hurt for a meal, so it wasn’t as if she were hunting for food. Her innumerable kills were always untouched. No, the only thing I ever saw her eat was a kitten.

We had some feral cats in the woods around our house and one momma cat had a litter in our tool shed. “Feral” really is stretching it; most of them were tame enough to be petted, this momma being among them. I returned home from school one day and headed around back to look in on them.

The door to the shed was open and inside I found Princess, her jaws pink from her feast. As she devoured that last kitten, her beautiful blue eyes never left mine.

The momma we found displayed on what I’d come to think of as the “rabbit bush.”

The tipping point came that same year when we found her sire dead. He was the best dog we’d ever had, that we ever will have. We woke one Saturday morning to find him in the backyard lying dead without a mark like so many rabbits before him. I can count the number of times I ever saw my father cry on one hand. That was one of them.

That was also when we found out how she killed so cleanly: she strangled her prey. Like a jaguar. The fur at her father’s neck was still wet with her saliva.

We spent that morning burying that good old faithful dog, and then he sent me and my mom away on some pretense. No words were spoken, but there was no doubt about what he intended to do.

I’m sure that there are some of you reading this that will find the notion of putting an animal down to be abominable, but what other options did he have, really? Take her to an animal shelter? Give her to some other family? Who could do that and go to sleep with a clear conscience?

As it turned out, we weren’t getting any sleep that night regardless of our decision.

We spent that afternoon at my uncle’s house. Once when I came in from playing to get a glass of water, I overheard my mom telling my uncle that she sometimes wondered if the dog was possessed or something. I’d sometimes wondered the same thing. Later that evening not long before sunset, we got a call from dad. Apparently, the deed was done.

By the time we arrived home, he’d already washed up and changed clothes, but there was little he could have done to hide his wounds, even less to hide the haunted look in his eyes. Both his arms and one leg were bandaged and that was bad enough, but what’s stuck with me all these years later was just how terrified he looked. It wasn’t until I’d actually been through combat that I recognized that expression – it’s how men look after they’ve stared death straight in the face.

My father never talked about it, but he’d drafted a friend from up the street to come help, and it’s from him that I get this part of the story.

Princess was many things – bloodthirsty and evil chief among them – but stupid wasn’t among them. In that, if nothing else, she took after her father. Her dad, Rocky, was famous for letting himself into the house if it was storming out. He’d figured out how to paw open the sliding glass door out to the patio. What was really astounding is that he also had the presence of mind to close it behind him.

Not being stupid, she knew something was up and made herself scarce, disappearing into the woods. Dad, not wanting to put this off and being in full-on revenge mode, called his friend from down the road and filled him in, so off on the hunt the two of them went.

In his own words, “She was laying for us.”

If it sounds absurd to say that Princess lay in ambush, then I’ve failed at conveying just how wrong everything about her truly was. She led them on a chase through those woods, barking whenever it seemed the stupid humans had lost her again. Then she laid up beneath an overhang on the creek bank just where the path crossed it and waited.

She was on my father the instant he stepped down into the creek, grabbing his leg and making him fall headfirst into the water. Then she went straight for his throat. My dad had already lost his rifle at that point and he grabbed her with both hands to try to fend her off, wrestling with 115 pounds of teeth, claws, and muscle in a foot and a half of water, Princess savaging his arms all the while.

At some point, he managed to work his legs up between him and the dog and kick her away from him, providing his friend with a clean shot, which he took, catching Princess through the chest. He put a second round through her head point blank. He then helped my dad back home and to the emergency room, telling him he’d go back to see after Princess once they got home.

“She can rot where she is,” was all my dad had to say on that subject.

After they got back from the hospital, our neighbor went back on his ATV to pick up Princess for burial. He was a dog lover like us and it just didn’t seem right to him to leave her. If he’d spent as much time tiptoeing around as we had, he might have felt differently.

“She flat wasn’t there,” he said. “No blood trail. Nothin.” He also said that after he’d been there poking around for a few minutes, he noticed something else strange – no birds. It was dead quiet the way the woods sometimes get right before a bad storm blows in. Wisely, he got right the hell out of there.

There was a storm coming, all right.

That night, Duchess came pawing at the back door wanting in, something she’d never once done in all the time she’d been with us, and I had a dream.

In it, I was playing football in the backyard with some buddies and ran over to where a bad throw had landed near Rocky’s grave. As I reached for it, Princess’s head shoved up out of the ground to grab my hand. I woke up with a jolt and was promptly scared out of roughly ten more years of life by the silhouette of a German shepherd in the hallway.

It was Duchess, of course. She was sitting in the hallway whining and wagging her tail nervously. She was looking back toward the front of the house. I walked over to her and placed my hand on her big doggy head and said, “What is it, girl?”

That’s when I heard the distinctive sound of claws on glass. Something was pawing at the patio door.

Thoroughly terrified, I grabbed Duchess by the collar and dragged her along with me to my parents’ room, shutting the door behind me. I was 14, I was terrified, but even in that terror retreating to my parents’ room wasn’t just for the security of mommy and daddy. That’s where the guns were.

I woke them up and told them what I’d heard.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” my mother said. Dad got up and locked the bedroom door and said, “Y’all lock yourselves in the bathroom.”

I heard the patio door slide open. If any of the rest of us had any doubts about what had just come into the house, Duchess sure didn’t. The only thing she’d ever feared in this world was her own pup. A deep rumble of a growl vibrated in the floor beneath our bare feet and Duchess’s bladder let go as if on cue. Mine wasn’t far from doing the same.

What followed was a six hour exercise in pure terror, punctuated by snarling attacks on the bedroom door, crashes through the rest of the house as Princess found more things to break, whispered prayers from my mother, and litanies of curses from my father as another of his attempted forays out of the bedroom were thwarted.

We were without a phone. The one on my parents’ nightstand was dead. We’d later find the phone line to have been ripped out at the main box. My mom suggested that we try to make it to the car and above and beyond everything else, it was my father’s response to that idea that really scared me. Of the three of us, he was supposed to be the rational thinker, but what we got instead was:

“Honey, I think that’s what it wants us to do.”

As the world through the windows turned from black to grey, a quiet fell over the house. Mom and I watched through the windows, craning our heads in an attempt to get an eye on the patio door, but try as we might, the best we could manage was a view of most of the patio – more than enough concealment for a dog to slink in or out, even a big one like Princess.

After an hour of silence, my dad quietly opened the bedroom door. I remember thinking what a useless gesture any attempt at stealth was. Dog senses are so much more acute than ours that he might as well have fired a twenty-one gun salute. Dad stopped in the hallway and shooed me back to the bedroom. “Don’t come out until I say, OK?” Carefully, he made his way through the house to the patio door. We heard him shut it before he shouted back to us to stay in the bedroom till he told us to come out.

Through the door, I could hear him moving around and what seemed to be him dropping things into a garbage bag. After about thirty minutes, he gave us the all clear.

What greeted us was a disaster – ripped up cushions and pillows, destroyed furniture, shredded papers and books all over the floor, but most terrible were the smears of gore all over everything. My mother wondered aloud at what she’d drug into the house. Grim-faced, my father did not answer. He simply turned and headed out the back to bury Rocky for a second time.

We cleaned up as best we could while dad drove down to our neighbor’s house to make all the appropriate calls. After all these years. I still wonder what portion of home owner’s insurance covers “attack by undead demon ghost dog”.

Unspoken, we all wondered what the night would bring.

As it turned out, we never got a repeat, but Duchess never left the house again.

Time rolled on.

Occasionally, we’d find a new “present” on the rabbit bush. Just a friendly reminder, another token of Princess’s abiding “love.”

About two years into college, my dad called to tell me that our neighbor had passed. “Heart attack in his sleep, the coroner says,” said my dad, but what we were both thinking was “Not a mark.”

There are plenty of nights where I wonder what the last thing was to pass before that old bachelor’s eyes. I can guarantee you it stared right back. I’ve seen firsthand how it feeds.

Not long after that, my folks put the house up for sale. I sort of acted as go-between on that deal. About a week after the new owners moved in, I received a call from the man of the house. He wanted to know if we’d left any pets behind when we moved. Already fearing the answer, I asked him why he asked.

“Oh, me and the kids keep seeing this white shepherd in the woods. Pretty!”

Pretty.

Original Story: Princess

#animals #possessed animals #Creepypasta

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