#That feeling when you loose your spirits of torment
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Christmas List Erased Day 24: The ghost of Christmas past, Family
I know these last two we're doing are MEGA late but Christmas really took it out of us. This was SUPPOSED to be on schedule to make everyone sad on the 24th right before Christmas but family obligations and tiredness absolutely destroyed us so we went for quality over quantity with this one. 23/25 is still a good ratio. We have one more picture for Christmas list erased prolly posting later today and mayhaps a doodle page and something else.
As always, thank y'all for all the support this blog has gotten, is been so epic making all of this art and seeing people enjoying it so much! The 25th is the one I've been the most excited for so please guess the characters and theme!
#epithet erased#epithet erased fanart#christmas list erased#illustration#molly blyndeff#lorelai blyndeff#martin blyndeff#Calliope blyndeff#Curses you with sadness#definitely scrooge and not waluigi#That feeling when you loose your spirits of torment
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giving many kisses to 🕯️anon for their neuvillette masterpiece xx If 🕯️anon has anymore thoughts on yan!neuvillette, I’m begging for more. please allow me to add my own brainrots in the conversation <3
Imagine if neuvillette put on trial someone from a foreign nation. Maybe a sumeru scholar traveling to fontaine for their thesis or a liyuean opera trope performer recently gifted a trip to fontaine. someone deeply engrained with their nation’s culture.
Only to be imprisoned under false charges all under neuvillette’s direction. Once under false charges, they’ll never be allowed to leave fontaine again, either imprisoned and under guard or in debt in neuvillette and reliant on his word to maintain their innocence.
Imagine being forced into a perpetual cycle of Fontaine’s latest fashion trends, their old thin silky robes being traded for layers and layers of billowy skirts. To engage in daily rigid suffocating etiquette every second rather than the causal and loose atmosphere of their home. Listening to fontaine’s ballet and opera rather than Nilou’s free spirited dancing or traditional Liyuean opera.
All the cultural whiplash and rigid etiquette of both neuvillette and the public watching their every move with no support, no family would break anyone.
Perhaps while they feel as if they are alone, burning the midnight oil to polish over a mistake neuvillette harshly critiqued earlier, they hum a little melody. Something reminiscent of their homeland, a lullaby passed down from parent to child. Humming turns into small sobs until their tune is a cohesion of broken choking and nostalgic memories, crumbling under the weight of neuvillette’s now very present shadow next to their desk.
They say, home is where the heart is and you've never resonated with a sentence more in your life.
Before, the meaning of home used to be simple, mundane, something you wouldn't even consider that gravely. Home used to be the buzzing of the busy populace at the ports and streets, it used to be dishes dashed with spices of all kinds, it used to be the reassurance of familiar faces. These blurs of happenstances once made your heart flutter with solace, solace that home was at your fingertips. Now, they only torment you with regret for not cherishing them more — because as it is, humans only understand the value of something once that has been snatched away.
Your ears almost don't pick up the soothing hushes leaving Neuvillette's lips, his arms pressing you further in his embrace. Your tears stain his night-robe but he doesn't seem to mind. You allow it as well, your mind too broken to think, your body too numb to push and your being too desperate to let go of this gesture of affection. You should be furious at him for the things he's done, you should scream, kick, curse, hit —and he'd agree that you wouldn't be guilty of that. Normally, he'd take initiatives to harshly criticize this ungraceful behavior and then the lengthy programs to correct it and it'd go on and on til one of you broke (it's always you).
Even when Neuvillette initiates affection, it's never to actually comfort you. They're delivered as rewards because you followed his wishes. But at this night while the rest of Fontaine slumbers and you break, his arms feel secure for once. So you don't struggle and let him coo and hold you tight, you wonder if he adjusts his intentions precisely because you offer no resistance.
Your words sink in his clothes, only a ‘I want to go home’ escapes with enough coherence for it to catch the judge's attention. He lifts your face up to meet his gaze, fingers brushing away stray tears.
“You are at home, this is your home now.” you expected the words to be plain and stern, but they come off as whispers as well. You would've known even if he didn't bother to say, because he's inscribed them in your heart time and time again and tonight, at last, you've accepted it.
#i feel a fever incoming but the words just came to me sooo#the things i do for 2d men#neuvillette brainrot#yandere#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x reader#yandere neuvillette#yandere neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x you#neuvillette#fontaine#yandere genshin imagines
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Oh, Rhi. When I saw this, I knew I had to send in a request 😆❤️
And because I'm in such a fluffy mood, could I pretty please have some major fluff with Frank Castle? Maybe a love confession? 🙈
Feel free to ignore, I'm just a fluffball today and Frank needs some love 😍
death and taxes
frank masterlist | sleepover masterlist
awwww lily i am in a mortifyingly fluffy mood and simultaneously yearning for the man that is frank castle... so please rejoice in these thoughts with me. please note the photo is a little misleading cause this thing be angsty (a little) BUT ANYWAY i hope you like it!
frank doesn't know why it's taken him this long to say it.
he thinks it's partially denial, but like many aspects of his life, there's a thin layer of silt that's settled over this feeling, that causes it to numb, despite the heart loudly pounding in his ribcage in earnest. for you.
he glances at the alarm clock on the bedside table, wincing at the time. it's 4.24 in the morning. he looses a heavy sigh before turning back onto his side, staring intently at the steady rise and fall of your chest, at the blissful expression painted on your face.
the sun is far from rising, moonlight barely drifting past the curtains, but there's an ethereal glow about you. there's a dull ache that spreads in frank's chest, symbiote-like as it snakes outwards, reaching into every shadow-filled nook and cranny within.
it pains him--loving you pains him. it's a sweet kind of agony, one that pairs fitful sleep and tormenting nightmares with the goodness of your soul, the understanding and kindness that seep from your actions into the centre of frank's transgressions. after all, you're the only person left in his life that sees him for who he truly is.
there are days when he is weary, when his self-loathing echoes above your adoration, when he questions all of what he deserves. he doesn't know if today will be one of those days, where the roaring in his head dulls every other sense about him.
but he knows it's time. it's long overdue.
and he knows he's got a shot with you. it's a chance of redemption, even if the odds are slim.
frank grits his jaw as the phantom pain spreads, catching stiffly in his joints, in his breathing. this is real, he reminds himself. it's not a nightmare. he moves closer to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your spine, inhaling the scent that's become home to him.
as it does every once in a while, the voice of mario castiglione blossoms in his memory. frank's father. his lilting sicilian accent rings clear. 'when you meet the one, you'll know. you'll know, because the love will be as real as the two things in life that are certain.' frank can still see the two fingers his dad would hold up. 'death, and taxes.'
death and taxes, indeed.
frank chuckles softly, supplementing his father's memory with a new one of his own. "wanted to wait until you were awake to say this, but if i don't do it now, i'll lose my nerve."
he pauses as you stir, mumbling his name, resuming only when he's certain you're fast asleep. "shoulda said it the first time i laid eyes on you, sweetheart. but here we are."
he nudges himself once more. as real as death and taxes.
"i love you. i sure as hell don't deserve you, but you're here, huh? hell, i'll spend every goddamn day makin' it up to you... to, i dunno, prove myself."
the confession is freeing, easing the weight on his shoulders, one word at a time. frank can't remember the last time he's spoken to anyone with this sort of grace, or vulnerability. it's liberating, and he feels it--mind, body and soul.
"i love you," he whispers, scooping you into his arms, holding your bodies as close as he can muster. as if the dam has broken, it comes tumbling out; a mantra, a tangible prayer. "i love you, sweetheart."
'i love you i love you i love you,' his spirit sings.
tags {x} @marvelswh0re @murdock-and-the-sea @itwasthereaminuteago @devils-dares @mattmurdocksscars @castlesnchurches @mindidjarin @pedrito-friskito @sweetieswiftie @honeyedheartss
tagging some of my frank besties cause i'm so fucking proud of this one
#frank castle#the punisher#frank castle x reader#the punisher x reader#frank castle fluff#the punisher fluff#the punisher angst#frank castle angst#frank castle fanfic#the punisher fanfic#saintmurd0ck director's cut#rhi's mutuals 💗#rhi writes 💻
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Sleepover - Rohan Kishibe x Reader
[Content: SFW, fluff, gender neutral Y/N, warning for description of nightmares/night terrors, fear, and Kira being creepy]
[Word count: 2.7k]
How did I end up here? Standing on a mangaka's porch in the middle of the night?
You had lived in Morioh for your entire life - content with your peaceful, albeit lonely, routine. You found it surprisingly difficult to make friends in the small town, spending most of your time reading and drawing on your own instead. That is, until a year ago, when you crossed paths with a peculiar cast of characters and your life changed. You had recognized a few of the boys - Josuke, Okuyasu, and Koichi - since they attended school nearby and frequented many of the same shops and restaurants as you. However, your interest in the group spiked when you began hearing mutters of a killer on the loose, and strange beings known as "Stands" that held powers beyond your imagination. After running into the boys so many times, it began to feel as though fate was bringing you together somehow. One day you mustered the courage to start a conversation and managed to befriend the rowdy teens. From there you became part of the group, helping out however you could despite your lack of a Stand. As a result you also became familiar with Jotaro Kujo, a stoic man visiting Morioh to investigate the Stand Users, and Rohan Kishibe, a stubborn mangaka, each possessing Stands of their own and aiding in the mission.
From the start you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to Rohan, not only admiring his abilities but also seemingly tolerating his bold personality more than the rest of the group. Though you could admit he was a prick sometimes, you longed to get to know him even just a little more and felt comfortable around him nonetheless.
Now you were at Rohan's doorstep at 3am on a cold fall night, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you hoped that he heard your knocking. Ever since the fateful battle with Yoshikage Kira, you found yourself plagued with nightmares and a general nervousness about the town. It was as though Kira's evil spirit itself was haunting you. Tonight your nightmares were worse than usual, waking you terrified with no chance of falling back asleep. You hurried to the one person who was guaranteed to be awake at this hour - Rohan. Glancing nervously around the dark, you shuddered at the thought of some twisted Stand User leaping out of the darkness to torment you like Kira did to so many others. You knocked again, this time more frantic. Just as your mind began playing tricks on you in the darkness, Rohan opened the door. You leapt through the doorway, nearly into his arms, and he stepped back in surprise with an annoyed look.
"There must be a slumber party at my place tonight, did I miss the memo? Seriously, what are you doing, Y/N." He crossed his arms.
"I-I'm sorry, Rohan! It's just… I had a nightmare…"
"And you came here why?" Rohan stared at you skeptically.
"I thought… Maybe you would be able to help make sense of these dreams… You're into scary paranormal stuff, right?"
"Scary paranormal stuff. Right." He rolled his eyes. "Look, just close the door and come in." He sighed and started walking through his lavish living room and toward the kitchen. "Let's just sit down and chat." You followed carefully behind Rohan; All the lights were off due to the late hour. You had been here a few times before with the others but the mansion still never failed to impress you. You felt a brief wave of pity for Rohan, wondering if it ever got lonely living alone in such a big house.
At last you arrived at the kitchen, Rohan motioning for you to sit down at a candle-lit dining table. His sketchbook sat open in the flickering light - he must have been drawing before you arrived. He sat across from you, the warm light illuminating his face. He leaned down, resting his elbow on the table and his chin on his hand.
"So, tell me about these nightmares."
You did your best to describe the dreams, starting vaguely in worry that Rohan might not take you seriously. However, as you went on his expression changed to one of concern, inviting you to open up. You told him all about the horrors you faced at the hands of the Stand User in your dreams, the sleepless nights and the anxiety that washed over you as the sun set on Morioh each day. You stopped and sat in silence, shaken up by the mere memory of your nightmares. You fidgeted your hands nervously on the tabletop, before glancing up and meeting Rohan's deep green eyes. The candlelight made them shine brilliantly, and you couldn't help but get lost in them. You wondered what was going on in Rohan's mind as he stared into your soul. After a long moment you snapped out of it, averting your gaze and blushing.
"Stay here for the night." Rohan spoke firmly. "We can't have you running off in the middle of the night again. We have to get this fear out of you." You were shocked at his willingness to help you and ever-so-slightly excited. Rohan continued. "Your fear isn't irrational per say. We all remember what Yoshikage Kira did. But it's been a year since then and this paranoia can't go on. Maybe it'll help to get some rest knowing there's a Stand user in the house." He stood. "I'm going to make tea. If you want some, you can."
You watched as he swiftly brewed a small pot of tea, mesmerized by the way his body moved in the dim light. He was wearing a much more casual outfit than you were used to seeing, though it still reflected his extravagant fashion sense.
You wondered how many times he had done this, brewing tea for himself at some late hour to fuel his nighttime drawing sessions. Had he ever wished he had someone to share it with?
Rohan set two elegant teacups on the table and poured out some for each of you. "This will help you relax."
You waited for him to sit back down before taking a sip and sighing.
"This is the best tea I've ever had! Thank you, Rohan… Really…"
Rohan smirked. "It's just tea, nothing special." You were tempted to tell him it was special just for the fact he made it. However, you held back. You finished your tea quickly and Rohan set the dishes aside. "You should get to bed. I can see the exhaustion in your eyes."
You felt ever-so-slightly self conscious. "Where do you want me to sleep? I can take the couch if you'd like-"
"No, no. There's guest bedrooms upstairs. Let me show you the way."
You followed Rohan, hoping to finally enjoy a restful sleep. He opened a door just up the stairs and flicked on the light.
"Go on. Now get some sleep. My bedroom is right next door if you need to know where the bathroom is or something." You thanked him and he closed the door, leaving you alone. The room was decorated plainly yet elegantly, and the bed was made perfectly as though no one had ever slept in it. Maybe they hadn't. You shut off the light and plopped down on the mattress.
It's even softer than I expected!
Rohan was right - you must have really needed to catch up on rest. And you did feel safer knowing he was right next door. You fell asleep the moment your head hit the pillows.
…
Darkness.
A path lit only by flickering yellow streetlights.
Walking past rows of identical townhouses. This is Morioh.
Your footsteps echoing through the night.
Why are you here?
Footsteps that are not your own.
Running.
Faster footsteps. He's behind you.
Hands grabbing you from behind. Holding you back.
Can't turn around but you know who is there.
The figure of a creature emerging from the darkness ahead. A Stand.
Piercing pink eyes tearing into your soul. Gloved hands reaching out for you.
Kicking, screaming to no avail, screaming for Rohan. Help me, Rohan! He's got me!
He's a Killer Queen
Gunpowder, gelatine
Dynamite with a laser beam
Guaranteed to blow your mind.
…
"Y/N! Y/N, stop! You need to wake up!"
You finally came to, Rohan struggling to hold you still with a frustrated expression. You were kicking and screaming and begging Kira to let you go. You gradually processed what was happening and burst into tears, giving in and clinging to Rohan desperately. He was silent and still for a moment, before hesitantly resting his arms around you. You buried your face in his chest and gripped his back, not caring if he pushed you away and scolded you. However, Rohan stayed still and silent, taken aback by the sudden contact. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, searching for the right words.
"Just… breathe. You're safe, I promise." Your sobs gradually grew more sparse and eventually stopped altogether. You looked up at Rohan, your face hot and tear-stained. Something in his expression changed as he looked down at you.
Without a word he got up, grabbing your hand and guiding you off the bed and to your feet.
"Come to my room. Let me help you." You rubbed your eyes and followed him out of the room and into his own, looking over your shoulder into the darkness of the house every so often. You could just make out the shape of Rohan's bed in the darkness. He sat down near the pillows and patted the spot in front of him. Once you joined him, he reached out and put his hands on your trembling shoulders.
"I didn't want to have to jump to this, but let me use my Stand to help you. Heaven's Door can erase all of this." You shuddered. You were present when Rohan used his Stand in the past - a clever yet invasive power. He had noticed how much it intimidated you and avoided using it on you until now. You gulped.
"It will only take a moment, and when you open your eyes everything will be okay."
You scooted closer to Rohan and nodded, closing your eyes. He focused his gaze on you and whispered.
"Heaven's Door!"
Your consciousness faded as Rohan laid you down and opened your mind like a book. You felt… vulnerable. But at this point you didn't mind. As long as you were in Rohan's hands, everything was okay.
It felt like only an instant passed before you opened your eyes. Your mind felt unexplainably clearer. You looked up at Rohan, who was sitting beside you, his legs hanging off the side of the bed.
"...I made some edits. I didn't completely wipe your memory of the dreams - I didn't want you waking up wondering how you ended up in my bed. That would've been a pain to explain. But you won't be having any more. Okay?"
You nodded, relieved. It was as though your fear was erased - literally.
Rohan gazed off into the darkness for a long moment.
"...Why are you so intrigued by me?"
In your panic you had completely forgotten that Heaven's Door allowed Rohan to read all of your thoughts - and you had no doubt he did some snooping. You hesitated to answer. There was just something about Rohan - his attitude, his outfits, his talent, the way he directed his dry jokes at you when you were with the others because he seemed to know you'd get it the most. You knew there was more to him than the cold front he put up in public, and you wanted to find it. And you had to admit, he was attractive…
"Heh. I guess I didn't have to ask. I bet right now you're thinking of the very things I already saw." You scrambled for an excuse before Rohan reached down and turned your chin toward him. You blushed hard and stared into his eyes, their emerald hue just visible in the dark. He leaned down close.
"This is what you imagined I would do when we were in the kitchen, is it not?"
He so knew what he was doing to you, though he kept his poker face all the while. You couldn't deny you liked it deep down.
"Tell me." Rohan whispered firmly. You turned, facing away from him in embarrassment. You felt him lean over you, his face mere inches from yours.
"Your silence speaks volumes."
He pulled back and laid down on the other side of the large bed. Your heart raced as you debated whether to turn over and try to explain yourself or leave him be. You decided not to dig yourself into an even bigger hole, closing your eyes and focusing on getting back to sleep instead.
Just as you began to drift off, you felt a weight shift on the bed behind you, followed by a firm chest on your back and arms wrapping carefully around your body. You opened your eyes, wondering if you were dreaming.
"What are you doing, Rohan?" You mumbled tiredly.
The man was silent at first before leaning close to your ear. You could feel his warm breath on your neck - an indescribable sensation shooting down your body. You gasped quietly.
"I'm just going to protect you for the night. Don't get too excited." Rohan snuggled closer, spooning your whole body in his. "Besides, you wanted to be closer to me, right? Well now you are." He whispered smugly, a teasing tone in his voice.
You closed your eyes, taking in the feeling of Rohan's tall, slim body against yours.
You broke the silence. "There's just… Always been something that made me want to be special to you…"
Rohan was silent for a moment.
"You are special to me."
Your heart fluttered as you took in his words. Deep down you hoped he would say more, but he held back. Stubborn as always.
"...Goodnight, Y/N."
You fell asleep to the feeling of Rohan's hands running soothingly along your side, and up and down your arms. You had no dreams that night.
When you woke you were alone in the bed. You could hear the faint sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen downstairs. Rohan must have gotten up before you (unsurprisingly, the guy seemed to never sleep.) You laid there for a moment, enjoying the warm sunlight pouring through the windows and the lingering smell of Rohan's expensive cologne in the air. For a moment you had to ask yourself if last night was a dream. You sat up, realizing you hadn't brought a change of clothes.
Your eyes settled on Rohan's closet.
You opened the tall sliding doors to reveal a walk-in closet packed with designer clothes. You scanned through the shelves - some outfits you easily recognized, others you had never seen him wear at all. You settled on a comfy white sweater and pants to match. His clothes were ridiculously baggy on you due to your height difference, but they were certainly comfortable.
You headed downstairs to find Rohan finishing breakfast, two plates waiting on the table. He glanced up at the sound of your footsteps and his eyes widened.
"W-Where did you get those!?" You couldn't help but giggle at his surprised expression.
"I forgot to bring a change of clothes, I hoped you wouldn't mind," you said in a sweet but teasing tone. Rohan crossed his arms.
"Fine. Just sit down, your food is going to get cold." You swore you heard him mumble: "You're lucky you're cute."
A tense silence filled the room as you ate. How could you have gotten so up close and personal last night but feel so awkward now? Every once in a while Rohan stole a quick glance at you and your outfit; he must have thought you didn't notice but you most certainly did.
Finishing your food, you looked up at Rohan. "Thank you for helping me last night. Really. I slept better than I have in… Well… at least a year." Rohan kept his eyes on his plate, but you couldn't help but catch a blush cross his face.
"...Don't mention it."
…
Josuke and Okuyasu walked casually down the road as they headed home from school. Okuyasu perked up. "Hey, aren't we about to pass Rohan's house? I wonder what he's been up to."
Josuke frowned. "Oh yeah, you're right." I'd rather not know honestly... He quickened his steps before Okuyasu put a hand on his shoulder.
"Oi, Josuke! Isn't that Y/N over there?" Josuke looked up, spotting you walking home from Rohan's house.
Okuyasu squinted. "Since when did Y/N dress so fancy! Wait... Don't those clothes look familiar…?"
The two slowly turned to each other.
#jjba#jjba fanfic#jjba x reader#jojos bizarre adventure#rohan kishibe#rohan x reader#diamond is unbreakable
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faramir - kiss me like you want to be loved.
summary: a long-awaited confession.
word count: 2.4k
fanfic no. 041
a/n: boromir lives because i say so.
it was a difficult farewell between the close brothers of gondor. but both were optimistic they would reunite not too far in the future—both were astute and praised warriors, trained from the day each of them could hold a sword upright.
between you and faramir, the cautious goodbye was somewhat tainted in awkwardness. neither of you were brave enough at the present moment to admit the feelings that plagued you both, effecting judgement, sleep and the completion of even minor tasks for many years now.
“farewell, y/n,” he spoke softly, a hitch in his breath, hesitantly raising an arm, wondering if he was crossing the delicate line of propriety.
“farewell, faramir,” you replied, abandoning predetermined notions of decorum as you finished what he had started, pulling him into a quick embrace, the first you had ever shared. and perhaps the last.
when you released him from your hold, his gaze was fixed upon you, awestruck from the emotions that arose within him from such a simple gesture, beginning to regret that he could not take his brothers place and curse the father that did not trust him with the task. with his mouth agape, and eyes almost sleepy, and heart in torment, he watched you back away from him, stepping into line with his older brother.
he was the last citizen of gondor to remain at the city’s uppermost region, watching you and his brother ride off into the horizon. as such, he felt an abyss form within his stomach, guilt rousing it all the more from the words he left unspoken. he had waved his brother off jeopardy, but of his life he was not as concerned as he was with yours. all his youth and adulthood, he had admired you from afar, shadowed you everywhere you ventured, unstable when he was not near you.
and now, you crossed middle earth without him, courage and bravery in your heart as you promised to fight for those who could not, if the task should fall to you. he had failed to seize the opportunity to reveal to you the object of his desires. and now, as you disappeared into the distance, he feared it was too late for another opportunity to present itself.
he may see no tomorrow, what with the armies of mordor inching closer to minas tirith, each time leaving gondor with fewer men to defend its borders.
but he hoped, he let himself hope.
｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡★｡+ﾟ☆ﾟ+｡
the trials of the fellowship had taken much of your spirit, only to be stressed by the fall of gandalf the grey. the elderly wizard had provided you with much wisdom and a perfected skillset, and his absence was dearly felt, but by no one more than yourself, someone he might have considered his family.
frodo and sam had begun the disbandment of your company, leaving you behind to pursue a trickier path, but one they must face alone. boromir had been seriously injured, almost fatally, enough that merry and pippin had been captured by an orc pack. but they had now returned, safe and sound where they belonged. though, dear pippin could not stay out of trouble for long.
and gandalf, it seemed, could not stay fallen for long.
“what’s going to happen to me?” asked pippin gloomily, kicking pieces of hay in the barn as you waited for gandalf.
“nothing is going to happen to you, dear pippin. you are safe from sauron if you remain with me and gandalf,” you assured him, ruffling his loose, curly locks.
“how long have you known gandalf?” asked pippin curiously.
“oh! a long time now—since my infancy. he took me under his wing long ago, and i have much to be grateful for,” you smiled fondly.
“i don’t think he likes me,” pippin frowned. “but then, i suppose, i am very accident prone.”
“i think sometimes you do without thinking. but you are young, and gandalf knows this. but he has lived many years, and can sometimes forget what ails the youth, such as yourself,” you explained, and added: “he cares for your safety, otherwise he would not get so angry.”
pippin seemed to accept this truth with a sunny disposition, his mood greatly improving upon hearing your explanation, taking it for nothing but the truth.
“merry!” he cried, rushing off to greet his friend.
“y/n,” called boromir, offering you a full water canister, in addition to your own. “do send my brother my well wishes.”
“of course, boromir. i am sure he will be delighted to hear of you.”
boromir laughed lightly. “yes, a brother’s bond is strong. though, i am sure he will be much more inclined to be delighted with your return.”
you smiled bashfully, turning away as heat crept into your cheeks. a hearty laugh sounded from behind you, and boromir clapped your back. “i see much,” he reminded you. "safe journey!" he called as he exited the barn in search of aragorn.
with a weepy send off between merry and pippin, you, gandalf and pippin set off for minas tirith. a flutter in your heart arose at the chance of seeing faramir again, barely entertaining the thought that he had fallen to an orc’s sword or axe. faramir was the best of his ranks, no doubt he was alive and well. and boromir’s encouragement did little to settle your nerves—the thought of reciprocation was almost too much to bear.
three day’s ride felt like nothing, despite the tribulations you’d been through these past months, for faramir awaited at the end of your journey. as the white city peeked above the distant horizon, shaded with hues of pink and orange, you pushed faster through the expanse that kept you from your destination.
pippin slept against gandalf’s chest, somehow unbothered by the erratic journey. and before long, your two horses were climbing the streets of minas tirith, warning passersby of your coming. the white tree in pippin's vision stood strong, undead—a ray of hope remained for frodo and sam.
you were home.
some hours had passed in gondor, no faramir in sight, and within that time the steward had made perfectly clear he would not call for aide, nor would he accept the ranger as king. but it all temporarily came to naught as the cries of nazgûl sounded from beyond the city walls.
hundreds of horses raced from osgaliath across the grassy expanse, fleeing from the fight they could not win against such forces. the winged beasts took them from above, grasping several men and horses between their talons and launching them through the air.
your sank through your chest, palms instantly bearing sweat as you feared for faramir’s safe return. he was, quite clearly, outnumbered by many, though he had proved to make a rational decision in the midst of war by ordering his men to fall back. still, the terror that gripped you was all-consuming, almost enough to bring you to your knees, for you could scarcely bear to watch.
you turned to gandalf in silent, desperate worry, and he understood the urge you felt to flee the castle walls and help in some way if you could, if it meant they would be saved.
you and gandalf rode out. a light from gandalf’s staff, bright and unrelenting forced the nazgûl away and brought the army of men to safety, faramir included. you could see him, almost clearly in the ranks of his men, riding fast to the city gate. he dared to turn and meet your gaze. the fear had subsided, though the adrenaline remained, and you breathed a heavy sigh of relief, closing your eyes and letting the wind whip through your hair as you silently thanked silent forces for this fortune.
when the danger had slipped away, faramir dismounted his horse and wasted no time in approaching you. he was breathless, tired, but alert. it was a quick, silent moment you thought he might break with a laugh or a welcoming embrace, but instead, questioned you of his brother, to which you informed him of his safety and health. he turned to pippin with a start next, filling you and gandalf with unbridled hope as he revealed he had seen two halflings alive and well not so long ago.
and afterwards, with as much decorum between the two of you as distant strangers, he walked with you and gandalf to meet his father. quietly, he fell back in line with you, conversing with you rather formally, despite that not ten minutes before he almost deserted decency to embrace you without hesitation. but he restrained himself, for what reason he could not quite remember.
entering the castle, feeling, finally, much safer now that he was deep within the city, he let himself look at you. you seemed well, and he hoped that was how you truly felt too. he thought of you often in your absence, though over time, little details and intricacies of your features had slipped away from memory. but now that they were before him again, he smiled familiarly, admiring you for all that you were.
“i must replenish myself,” faramir informed you, hoping you might follow him so he would be blessed with a moment alone with you.
“yes, of course,” was your meek response.
he hesitated slightly, unaware if you had caught onto his subtle indication and were politely refusing or whether it had passed over your head completely. and so he left without another word, jaw clenched and shaking his head at the fool he had made himself look.
“well, aren’t you going to follow him?” asked pippin in disbelief when he was far enough away that his little comment would go unheard.
“whatever do you mean, little one?” you asked with a scoff.
“that is clearly a man who wishes to be followed!”
you trailed his gaze, catching faramir looking behind, but laughed it off instantly. “i- no. you’re mistaken.”
“i am not!” replied pippin, looking to gandalf for approval.
you looked to the old wizard yourself too, hoping for assurance on your behalf, but found nothing of the sort as he smirked at pippin and raised his eyebrows. with nothing leaving his lips, you understood perfectly the meaning of his silence.
most embarrassed by the scene, you hurried off in pursuit of the gentlemen who had left you behind in the hopes that you would follow. but for all your desires that he might wish for you the way you wished for him, catching the signs of this reciprocation was much more complicated than you might have imagined.
you turned down many passages, walked through several corridors, completely in the dark as to where he might have gone. you were so caught up in looking for him, in fact, that you missed him completely, and only found yourself face to face with the man when he called you back.
he had been staring at an old piece of art in the castle, one he must have seen and admired a dozen times before, but had needed something with which to occupy himself as he waited and hoped to see you.
“i was looking for you,” was all you spoke, unsure of how to begin.
“you found me, it seems,” he laughed. “with a little aid.”
he let his smile fade slowly, searching for the words in his crowded mind so that he might perfectly convey all that he thought in regards to his feelings for you. he gestured to an empty bench before the painting that hung tall, sitting close beside you.
“i have been meaning, for some time now, to tell you that which i have kept from you,” he began, keeping you on the edge of your seat. “from our youth, though i did not know it then, i have felt for you something i have never felt for another. and…” his breath was trembling, his eyes fixed to his hands. you took them warmly into yours, and this forced him to meet your eyes, where he found the utmost encouragement. “and when you left those weeks ago, i have regretted every moment since that i did not tell you then exactly how i felt.”
“and how do you feel?” you asked him, needing to hear it after so long.
“i feel…i feel as if- as if you- no. when i am in battle,” said he, “and my sword is kicked from my grasp, the enemy bearing down upon me, it is not, though perhaps it should be, for my men that i find the strength to stand again, to fight with my bare hands if i must. it is not for the approval of my father, nor even for my brother. when i am an inch from death, i find my strength in you, i find my courage in you. my hope, in the thought that i would see you again.”
“faramir,” you whispered through a breath of disbelief, that an honourable man such as he would care for you so deeply, a wayward soul under the influence of a wandering wizard. “i could not wish for a better man to have said these words to me. you are the best i could hope for, and truly i did hope for you,” you laughed through your tears, struggling to find breath under the weight of this joyous revelation.
“my y/n,” he chuckled, his teary eyes following the down-turn of your head as you pulled his hands up to your lips.
cupping your jaw delicately, he raised your eye-line to meet his, gazing upon you like a revered work of art. softly, he brushed your tears away with the pad of his thumb, leaning in cautiously but eagerly for something which the both of you had craved for an eternity. his mouth brushed yours tentatively, opening your lips to accommodate his own. and the pair of you were set ablaze, suddenly and feverishly reaching for each other as if you were not close enough already—his tunic gripped between your fingers, your hand over his neck while his arm snuck around your waist and fingers tangled into your hair.
distantly, he heard his father’s bellows, and it pulled him from you reluctantly. resting his forehead against yours, he regained much of the breath he had lost in your shared embrace, taking a moment to recover.
“i must go,” he said lowly, the baritone in his voice causing you to shiver.
“come and find me when you are done.”
“i would not think to do anything else,” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head before stoically marching towards his father’s inevitable disapproval.
though his approval, in comparison to yours, was trivial.
🏷 @velvetcloxds @entishramblings
#faramir x reader#faramir x you#faramir imagine#faramir of gondor#faramir fic#faramir#lotr faramir#lotr fanfic#lotr fic#lotr imagine#lord of the rings x reader#lord of the rings fic#lord of the rings fanfiction
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Ikigusare - Oiwa-san Rock
The song, the lyrics (with an english translation by me) and some commentary are below.
youtube
Japanese, directly from the subtitles in the video:
映画 お芝居やるのなら
お参りしないと祟られる
お名前 口にするのなら
敬称つけぬと祟られる
そんな猛烈な呪い お江戸の時代から
今この現代まで ずっと続いてるなんて
なんて凄まじい情念でしょう
なんて素晴らしい怨念でしょう
どうすれば貴方様のようになれるのかしら
誰か私に毒を盛って
鏡の前 髪をすくと
ズルリ ゴッソリ 抜け落ちる
ご遺体 釘付けされた
戸板 川に浮かび上がる
そんな恐ろしい場面 ひどく陰惨な場面
そんな時も貴方様 お美しいのですね
なんて凄まじい情念でしょう
なんて素晴らしい怨念でしょう
どうすれば貴方様のようになれるのかしら
誰か私に毒を盛って
なんて凄まじい情念でしょう
なんて素晴らしい怨念でしょう
どうすれば貴方様のようになれるのかしら
誰か私に毒を盛って
English:
Filming a movie, writing a play,
Visit her grave, or you'll get cursed.
Saying her name,
Address her properly, or you'll get cursed.
Such a powerful malediction, dating back to the Edo times,
They say it still goes strong to this day.
Such great passion, isn't it?
Such wonderful hatred, isn't it?
Ah, what must I do to become like you?
Somebody, give me that poison!
In front of the mirror, you're combing your hair.
It's so loose that it falls out completely.
A corpse nailed to a board
Rises to the river's surface.
What a horrific scene, what a scene of terrible despair.
Even in such a moment, you are more beautiful than ever...
Such great passion, isn't it?
Such wonderful hatred, isn't it?
Ah, what must I do to become like you?
Somebody, give me that poison!
Such great passion, isn't it?
Such wonderful hatred, isn't it?
Ah, what must I do to become like you?
Somebody, give me that poison!
Commentary (explaination + personal thoughts):
Obviously, this is referencing Yotsuya Kaidan, a classic japanese ghost story and kabuki play. I suggest reading or watching a retelling of the story to get the whole context.
This is what you'll need to know to understand the lyrics...
Basic: Oiwa is the main character of Yotsuya Kaidan. The story isn't very consistent between its different versions, but the gist is that her husband Iemon betrays her and her family in several ways, mainly by killing her father and then having an affair with a different woman. That woman later poisons Oiwa so that Iemon can marry her instead. When Oiwa dies, she becomes a vengeful spirit and torments Iemon. This is a very basic summary of her part in the story.
Verse 1: There's a belief that when making an adaptation of Yotsuya Kaidan, be it a movie or a stage play, the cast, crew and other creators should visit Oiwa-san's grave and shrine and ask her to bless their production, lest her curse befall them. The part about adressing her properly isn't anything I recognise, but I imagine you'd have to be pretty polite when talking to a vengeful spirit who may curse you.
Bridge 1: The story is set in the Joukyou era (~1684-1688) and loosely based on an incident that happened in the Genroku era (~1688-1704), which are eras in the Edo period (1603-1868). The play was written in 1825.
Chorus: Oiwa was tricked into disfiguring herself with a poisonous facial cream. That's the poison being sung about. Because of it, her eyes started drooping and her hair partially fell out, among other things. Her disfigured face is particularly iconic, especially how Iemon kept seeing it everywhere after her death.
Verse 2: Lines 1-2: In the play and in adaptations, there is usually a scene of Oiwa combing her hair in front of a mirror and it falling out from the poison. From what I know, the scene is a tragic and horrific play on a type of sexy fan-service scene in kabuki plays where a beautiful woman combs her long hair.
Lines 3-4: When Oiwa eventually dies (either from the poison, from despair or from both), her body is nailed to a board and dumped into a river by her husband. Later, when he's trying to fish, he catches her, nailed to that board.
Anyway, I really like this song. It sounds gentle and romantic, even though it really isn't. I like the traditional japanese feel it has despite (to my knowledge) not having any straightforwardly traditional musical elements.
Ikigusare is kind of hit-or-miss for me musically, but when it's a hit, that song quickly becomes one of my favourites. The lyrics are rather nice and well-written, though I can't help but feel like some of them are pretty generic. The visuals, though, are spectacular every time and I have nothing bad to say about them. The low-poly music videos add so much surrealism and mistique to the songs, a lot of which wouldn't be very remarkable in a different entourage. The girls' stilted dancing and position switching only adds to that surreal feeling. The girls themselves have amazing designs, very simple and striking. The one-two-three eyes pattern, their image colours being very basic and distinct (RGB, literally), their constantly changing themed outfits and the unique slightly grotesque twist on a common idol persona look that each girl has make them work very well as a unit, especially a horror-themed one. Overall, a rather interesting group/artist.
I have at least four Ikigusare songs that I want to translate and post. I'll do it at some point in the near future if nobody beats me to it.
#own post#own translation#translation#music#ikigusare#ikigusare idols#yotsuya kaidan#japanese folklore#my first attempt at something like this#to my knowledge nobody has translated this yet#feedback is welcome
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cw: part of cursed!reader series.
mirai-shourai has been quiet all day and the anger you swallow in your throat is thick and bitter as you try to keep your emotions in check. to think that your endless tormenter has decided to leave your side at a time like this, when it's dire and you need it more than ever is cruel, even for the cursed spirit itself. your shoulders are weightless, and you take a deep breath in as you remember the last thing it said to you, weeks before today.
kento will die soon.
no other detail than that, but somehow you know in your soul that it'll be today, even if you have no proof. but what more can you say than the eternally useless words, be careful.
shibuya station.
your fingers twitch as you gather with the remaining sorcerers and students who have answered this call to action. gojo is unreachable, and you don't know if your friend is with him or not, but she is unreachable as well, which doesn't particularly bode well.
the veil stretches before you, and you will only know if you enter within.
kento glances at you, and you shake your head slowly, without saying a word. there are multiple questions in his obscured gaze. what do you know? why are you shaking?
are you coming with me?
you can only answer the last one.
perhaps you are still rusty and your hand to hand combat skills are not particularly up to par after years sitting at a desk and doing the bare minimum, but your cursed energy materializes into a sniper rifle just as easily as it did when you were just a couple years out of graduation. you take a deep breath and step forward, only to hear nanami speak directly to you for the first time.
"no."
a small gasp leaves your throat. stricken dumb by his sudden statement, loud enough for other sorcerers, even students to hear, you feel a sudden wash of embarrassment run through your features. nanami doesn't seem to recognize why you've been so immediately taken aback but he also doesn't seem to care. instead he clarifies,
"stay out here and protect the civilians."
you tense, the loose fingers of your left balling into a fist, the fingers of your right tightening its grip around your weapon. rather than aggravate the situation further, you decide to laugh it off.
"kento, you're not my father, come on." you step further, but he's not laughing with you, the same stern face he keeps with everyone now pointed towards you. your heart pounds in your chest.
he doesn't say another word and the two of you hold gazes at the moment - you demand an explanation; he will give you none. but you know - if you take another step, he'll be furious and somehow... you look around and grit your teeth.
you don't want to create a scene, but he's right. you haven't fought in years, you'll only slow everyone down. if anything, you can protect, you can use your sight, but otherwise...
all gazes are turned suddenly to the sound of yuuji calling for nanami.
"gojo-sensei has been sealed!"
the very air shifts. nanami no longer plans to fight you and re-strategizes. your rifle vanishes and you concentrate.
mirai-shourai, tell me something, anything, you whisper into the darkness of your conscious. the cursed spirit is silent and if you could, you would strangle it.
"we're meeting up with itadori at once."
megumi and ino follow, the latter glancing back at you for a moment, seeing the look in your eyes, but saying nothing.
and you have nothing else to say at this time. kento will not believe you if you prophesize his death right now, and even worse, if he does believe you, it won't stop him from going anyway. if anything, it'll make it unforgivable for you to follow him despite his best wishes and try to keep him safe.
you turn on your heels, trying to storm off without making it apparent. a few moments pass and you look at your phone, then look back. he's long gone.
you know he will hate you for this, but you have to.
please don't die, you text, and you materialize your weapon again, your first target, a cursed spirit, suddenly in your sights.
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All that lasts forever
I really like MC's titles. Whenever I'm drawing and sketch my MC, I write, "Deity of Eternity, a universal constant without dominion." I know that isn't entirely true, but it can certainly feel like that at times.
Also, I'm curious about the deities and their god cores? Can the centers of being can be damaged? Is it like a soul? Can gods die? If they lose their mortal vessel, do they just return to the Astral? Can they come back?
That is such a lovely phrase, though!! Woefully ironic, and yet true at the same time.
Even the form of the gods are unclear to me, as they are supposed to be above human comprehension—it would be counterintuitive to know so much about it. However, what I do know about it is that gods have a core. They are, in truth, made up of special matter from the Universe called rajo. Their amorphous being is very loosely connected through their core.
Harming a god's mortal body with a normal weapon will not harm their core. However, it can be harmed, with the right material. What this material is, I cannot say for now!
This is not a soul, however. Most living beings have certain Universe matter that allow them to be "changeable"; gods have very little of this, and thus they can be quite resistant to change. This is perhaps by design, as they are meant to be steady pillars of their world, not easily changed or influenced. Although, very little is known about what is deliberate or spontaneous when it comes to the Chaotic Universe.
This matter that allows beings to be "changeable" is also eternal. Unlike rajo, it remains forever. As humans have a lot of this, they have some form of "soul" that allows them to persist in some shape, even after they die. Hence, why the gods, namely Luciel, created the afterlife for them—a place where their restless spirits can remain. Other animals are able to return themselves back to the Universe, and so they may go peacefully without the torment that is "forever."
So gods can indeed die when their core is severely damaged. Unlike humans, they will die forever, and there will be little to no trace that they ever existed.
This is a bit of a lore-heavy ask, but if you made it all the way through, I hope that was intriguing! I am slightly dusty on the lore as I've conceived all this last October, and I am picking back up on outlining and planning once more. This may also be subject to change as I go further in my plans for the IF, so take this with a grain of salt! Thanks so much for your interest in the workings of the world 💕💕
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"You feel the same way that I do for you, about her"
Tags: canonxoc, fem oc, wlw, hurt no comfort, unrequited love, returning love too late, major character death, grief, angst, infidelity? (Michael's a homewrecker)
Summary: Unceremoniously changed against her will, Star must navigate her new life as a half-vampire, knowing the reason she was turned was for an immortal that grew fascinated with her. When the Emerson's moved into town the maverick girl finds herself stuck between two desires and two people she cares for.
Word count: 15.5k (I got a bit carried away)
Star had never put much thought into her plans.
Always a free spirit who lived for life and everything it came with. It never resonated with her that being so optimistic and lively might get her in trouble one day.
And it has. The kind of trouble that no matter how much you try patching it up and praying over it, it simply can't be fixed. She had thought she hated the boys and her but as she looked down at her bloody, fervid attempt at self-preservation, she can't help but feel she had been wrong.
The bright signature lights of Santa Carla's boardwalk shone over the nightlife, lighting up the otherwise obscured faces in colourful intervals. Fun for them, useful for the looming figures tucked away on the edge of the overlapping crowds. They watched over their potential prey in the pools of stock, looking through each individual to find their perfect match. Two of the blonds had already found a couple of passersby they fancied to sink their teeth into, eager even to taste their warm, thick blood, the thought alone making them restless. But they waited for the others to make their claims, somewhat earnest that they were taking so long.
"What's the big deal, just pick one so we can eat!" The taller blond, Paul, whined clearly fed up with the group's prowling, much rather wanting to strike their victims and sustain the burning hunger in his throat. The others ignore him apart from a couple eye rolls sent in his direction, specifically from Dwayne, keeping their focus on the tourists.
The leader of the group stalling his time to take his pick, as the norm for him. David claimed he wanted nothing but the best to feed from, not wanting to drink from a drug addict or a chronic alcoholic, their life source tasting bitter and old compared to clean blood.
Marko and Paul had coined it 'virgin blood', thinking they were clever, but they honestly didn't mind tainted blood too much. The two already taking whatever drug they could get their hands on at the time. "You know, junkie blood isn't that bad. You get food and get high at the same time!" Paul pushes further, practically jumping on the spot from where he sat on his bike. His friend chimes in "Yeah, the stoner bloods the best." The blond gestures to Marko "See! Roni, you think so too, right?"
Standing the furthest away from the group, arms crossed loosely to her chest with a cigarette resting between her fingers, Veronica was trying her best to stay out of whatever conversation the boys were having but naturally, they ended up pulling her into it regardless. She turned her head slightly to look in their direction, "Hm? Oh, yeah, sure." she muttered in a distant tone before turning back around to watch the crowd.
"Something on your mind there?" Marko prodded her side receiving a glare in return which only caused him to chuckle, bumping shoulders with his friend who was equally as amused. "None of your business." Paul joined in with his Marko's antics looping around to the other side of Veronica, looking down at her with a mischievous smirk. "Oh, really? So would we be wrong in assuming a certain girl's on your mind?" he wiggled his eyebrows.
"Can you not?" trying her best to push the two men away, the dark-auburn-haired girl sighed out in frustration. The boys had always been like this, especially the two tormenting her currently, when they offered her to join them as their sister she didn't think they meant they'd actually treat her like one. "Aaaww, don't want us to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?" They mocked in a baby voice, teasingly pinching her cheeks, she finally broke free from their grasp and smacked them both on the arms, which made them cackle loudly.
As if on queue, Star appeared from the sea of people walking towards the gang with little Laddie in tow, a fistful of her skirt in his hand to not get lost. Paul and Marko chuckled amongst themselves as they make their way back to their bikes, anticipating what was going to happen when she did regroup with them.
If Veronica had a working heart in her chest it would be beating a thousand times over right now, tension already in the air connecting her and the approaching woman. The night before still fresh on her mind, she kept eye contact as the gap between them reduces until Star comes to a sudden stop in front of her. They stand silently looking at each other, waiting for the other to speak first, neither of them do. Instead, keeping their eyes entrapped within the others. Licking her chapped lips and fidgeting with the cigarette laying between her fingers, Veronica looked her up and down as if doing so would cause her to come up with anything to say. It manifested itself into an awkward silence with neither of them knowing how to progress. There was so much for Veronica to say but she couldn't think of a way to say anything at all, chewing her lip to where it became sore, fingers flicking the rolled tobacco.
A low whistle came from Paul's lips as if to signify the awkwardness of the situation, Laddie had already detached himself from Star at this point to head back to Dwayne, the man lifting him up to settle him down on the back of his bike now revved up and ready to go, waiting only for the rest of them to follow.
David seemed to have made his mind up as he too starts up his engine and wordlessly motions for the rest to do the same with a nod of his head. Star looked over to them before giving Veronica one more quick glance, bowing her head she silently walked past Veronica's bike to sit on David's. Not making eye contact with the sullen girl, clearly embarrassed and ashamed with all the eyes on her, she wrapped her arms around David's torso.
Veronica sighed, throwing the butt of her cigarette to one side before lifting her leg over her bike and starting up the engine, sending a glare over to the boys for the enjoyment they were clearly getting from the situation, Paul in particular looking like he might burst into a fit of laughter with his lips clamped tight shut around his teeth.
The road back to the cave was easily followed by the group, having taken it more times than they could count. They used to only go back to the cave once they were done hunting but since Star had joined she insisted they drop her and Laddie off first. David refused but of course she got her way, as the norm it seemed to be. That fact irritated the blond to no end, David and Veronica used to be close but now, it feels as though their relationship is dwindling by the minute, with every day she and Star cause tension in the pack she could feel the bond with all of them weaken. Even now as they drift down the dirt road, the boys stick together while Veronica falls back a bit.
Engines sputtered to a stop at the entrance of the cave just long enough for Star and Laddie to hop off the bikes and head inside, Veronica watching the woman skip down the uneven rocks until her silhouette disappeared into the mouth of the den before they were driving back down the path toward the beach.
The scent of their chosen prey still plaguing their senses, she assumed the others were excited for the hunt but she just wanted to get feeding over with as soon as possible. The once high-spirited girl used to love going to the boardwalk to find victims, the way they'd scream and fight while their sickly-sweet blood ran down her throat gave her an ecstasy she couldn't resist.
Now she couldn't care less about the activity, seeing it as more of a chore than something to enjoy. It was a particularly cold night tonight especially for Santa Carla's standards, imagining Star sitting alone in the cave, wrapped in her sheer scarf trying to keep warm in the cold chill worried her. Half-vampires are a bit stronger than humans but nowhere near the extent of true vampires, a bug or illness the boys and Veronica can easily brush off like nothing could have a bad effect on the two fragile halflings currently huddled up in the hideout.
Luckily for her, the group didn't take long to get to the beach, not that she would've noticed with her thoughts taking her mind elsewhere. The woman Veronica had set her eyes on hadn't wandered far from the area she had left her, much to her relief, tracking down runaway prey wasn't something she was particularly excited for currently.
Most of the prey had congregated around a bonfire as was the tradition for tourists, cold beers in hand with loud music blasting across the seafront. The group spend only a few moments observing the lot before unleashing their attack. Veronica leapt forward from behind one of the old trees that outline the beach, attaching her fangs to the throat of her long-awaited kill, taking in the alluring and addictive scent of blood. The soft crunch of broken skin pacifying the primal desperation for the hunt, shivers juddering through her body as the woman squirmed under her grip, feeling the blood escape her veins into the mouth of the merciless creature encasing her.
Screams and pleas are all drowned out by the others who too fell victim to the vampires, almost like a sick harmony except everyone is out of time and only worried about their own survival. Ultimately, the predators prevail and take what's theirs until the screaming comes to a halt.
For Veronica, it all went by in a blur. The distant begging and screeching still swirling in her mind's ear as she lets the once warm body drop, pushing tussled curls out of her peripheral, smearing the burning liquid across her already caked face. If vampires had the ability to sweat, the heaving gang would be drenched in the musk, the moist air blowing in from the sea coating a clammy sheen on their cold skin.
Hollering and whooping, the guys jumped around the beach shoving into each other like a group of boisterous school boys, using the bonfire to dispose of the drained, cold bodies. Sparing them only a slight glance, Veronica rose to her full posture and turned to leave, the grains of sand beneath her worn boots gritting together in protest, making her way back to their bikes.
"Hey! Where you going?" Sighing in annoyance but not faltering in her steps, Veronica continued her pursuit even as a heavy arm fell on her shoulders pulling her close into a side hold. "You okay, babe?" Paul leaned his weight onto her hovering to be down to her height. Marko joined on the other side slotting an arm around his blond friend, trapping Veronica between the two of them once again, except this time she was desperately trying to get out of the situation. She tried pushing through but their grip held strong, keeping their stride even to hers as they pestered her.
"Come on, boys, stop bothering her." Dwayne called out from by the bonfire, for a moment Veronica mentally thanked him for a small mercy, "She's trying to get lucky tonight, don't cockblock her". Cackles erupted across the seafront, not even David couldn't resist a crack at her expense, and here she thought he was coming to her rescue. Shoving the boys' arms off her, she turned around slightly "Seriously, fuck you guys." before continuing until she got to her bike. The sounds of her friends laughing still playing in the background as she sets back off to the cave.
-----
The abandoned wreck, which used to be a grand hotel, is actually quite cosy. Posters and stolen decorations hang from the ceiling and walls, old couches and chairs strewn across the layout were dusty but relatively comfy but nothing compared to the small sanctuary Star had set up for herself in the furthest corner. Canopies and fabrics slung around the area of her bed which harboured blanket on top of blanket all perfect to nestle into. Boxes of scarves and clothes and all sorts of shimmering things scattered around the room, including on the drawers that had been set out for the rest of Star's things.
Scanning quickly over the cave, Veronica looked for Star through the hanging fabrics. Soft humming travelled from a nest of pillows and duvets to the entrance where was Veronica climbed down, she presumed it must be coming from Star's bed as she ventured towards it. Sure enough, sat with crochet needles in her hands, Star is delicately weaving yarn into intricate patterns. Looking lost in her own world, she hadn't even noticed the approaching girl until her boot let out a squeak that dragged her attention from her project.
Dropping the needles and yarn to the side, Star stared at the bloodied woman with wide eyes. Looking her up and down taking in the mess left behind on her body, the staining that was no doubt going to be apparent by tomorrow, luckily most of her outfit was composed of black material but the blood will take nonetheless.
The doe-eyed woman slowly stood up from where she was on the mattress, circling around to meet her reluctantly but not with fear, reaching a hand out to rest on Veronica's arm "You're a mess." She spoke, almost scolding her in a way. Taking in the sight up close. Usually, they'd wash themselves off in the ocean before they settled in for the night but the anxious girl had come straight home to Star, totally forgetting their routine.
Pushing the dirtied jacket up and off Veronica's shoulders, the blood making the fabric stick to her skin giving a peeling effect as it left, Star disposed of it to the side making sure not to let it fall on any of her own possessions. Soft fingers brush bare skin as they travel up the curves of exposed flesh, nothing between the bloodied upper body and the outside aside a cropped singlet that could pass for a bralette if anything. About to move her hands away to grab a washcloth that sat in an old box of materials, they were suddenly held down by the vampire's, forcing them to stay in contact with her sides. Star's eyes flickered up. Sharp but shallow breaths pass the rosy lips of the halfling, chest slowly rising and falling as if an internal battle isn't waging in her heart trying to overtake any sense in her brain.
A mass murderer stood before her, the faint scent of gore still lingering, in the hair tickling her arms, the pudge that lay under her palms, under the fingernails that now reach to caress her cheek. The gap between their bodies lessening leaving only a few inches to separate them, Veronica removed one of her cold hands from Star's, she makes gentle contact with the brunette's face.
It's wrong. It's so wrong. This beast of the night, sucker of blood, something dubbed soulless by mere humans yet upon looking in her eyes and feeling her touch Star could protest that all to be wrong. Looking back to the entrance of the cave to make sure no one was there, Star looked suddenly nervous trying to seperate herself from Veronica but failing. She let out a weak protest when she felt the thumb resting on her cheek edge closer to her lips, the blood filling her nostrils tempting enough to make her mouth begin to water. She knew what the vampire was trying to do but her protests were too weak for Veronica to believe.
Transitioning from human to vampire was difficult for any halfling but pure, kindhearted Star took it too hard, she couldn't fathom sinking her teeth into the flesh of another. But she knew, deep down, that she was becoming just like that monster standing before her now. Every new night spent in this new body, life and mind she felt the burning thirst take hold of her throat with an iron grip that held no mercy, making her see darkness until she had no choice but to fight for air. Blood. God, she needed it so bad and here her saviour was offering to take that grip from her throat herself, to stop the pain and guilt. But she just couldn't do it, she was weak just like her trembling hands now pressed on Veronica's midriff, trying to push away.
Surprisingly gentle, Veronica gave comforting strokes of her thumb over Star's hand while the other still rests by her lip, the lack of heartbeats and heat coming from her didn't help the goosebumps littering the shaken girl but the soft words emitting her mouth gave her enough warmth to keep her standing. "Why? You've already come this far, haven't you?" Looking away from the vampire's eyes didn't help the feeling she felt through her, doing her best not to turn her head was so difficult, "Are you trying to say you don't want this at all? That you don't want me all? You'd rather go back to how your life was before I met you?"
Allowing a feminine hand to travel further up until they settled on the side of her neck, a thumb pressed to the sensitive points causing a shake to infiltrate her body. They both know she isn't going to answer, she never does. However, Veronica became tired of the lack of reciprocation and communication as of late. Gently but forcefully using the hand on her cheek to twist Star's face toward her, eyes locking together. "Answer." It was almost a beg in its nature but Star knew the darkness that lay beneath. "I-" a breath caught in her throat "I can't." sobs racket her body in violent shudders, the hand that wasn't occupied working itself to wipe away the tears pouring themselves down her cheeks. Weeks of pent-up frustration and tension finally snapping into an explosion of tears and hiccups.
"I can't kill people. I can't, Veronica, please. I can't. I don't want to." Incoherent babbling pooling out with no intention of making much sense. The relief of finally being able to let out the conflicts going through her mind allowed her to slump her shoulders and let herself fall on the sturdy woman. Accepting arms welcome the meltdown, giving soft strokes to the back of coiled hair, taking strands between cold fingers and twirling them.
A soft hum acts as a way to soothe the panicked girl, "You do. You want to kill as much as I do, but you know if you give in you'll change and no one will forgive you apart from me, not even yourself." Glossy brown eyes snap up to make contact with the darker set peering down at her, vision blurred from the weeping. Her body pressed up against the vampire, Star gazed at Veronica flustered. Words caught in her throat, unable to come up with an argument to what she knew was the truth.
Suddenly, Veronica lunged down, lips lock in a rough, passionate exchange, hands travel through locs of curls and soft skin. A gasp passing through Star's mouth into the vampire's, lips hungry and desperate for more, denial stops none of the intense lust travelling through the halfling as she becomes one with her illicit lover. Teeth nipped at red flesh causing blood to rush forward to the meeting point filling Veronica's senses with the primal urge to sink her fangs into soft skin, retrieving the nectar from its source. Hunger still raging its war through her throat and soul, begging her to lean forward and fill its desires, her last meal was sparing and meagre it would be so easy now to put an end to the burning.
She pulled back to look down at the delicate human, a sliver of tongue swiping across her lip to gather the remaining saliva left behind before she suddenly pushed Star away causing her to gasp in shock.
Sparing not even as little as a glance, she sauntered away, fists curled tightly by her side, knuckles turning a pale white, her posture stiff. A stunned Star left behind, mouth parted dispensing hot, heavy breaths, fingers clutching at the fabric of her skirt. Confusion set in watching the frustrated figure disappear back up through the mouth of the cave, presumably to the boys who were no doubt laughing at their expense right now as they suffer from their emotions. She felt pathetic clinging to whatever nerves she had left, knowing how much pain she was causing the one person who still stood by her unconditionally. She was never wanted by the others, even in her human life she remained unnoticed, but here now she took advantage of the dedication of a woman who loved her.
Wet strokes of tears remarried the damp cheeks of Star's pink face, a muffled thump echoed in the small burrow as she let herself fall back on her bed, resting her upper body on the column supporting the canopy hanging over. Raising a shaking hand to cover her mouth, sobs racked her body leaving her without noise. "Star?" A little voice popped out from around the corner, Star whipped her head around toward the sound.
Laddie stood alone by the wall separating the main cave and the little nook the boys had set up as their nest, peeking out with his hair ruffled with sleep and pyjamas crinkled. Confusion set across his face as he watched Star break down in front of him. Usually, he'd sleep beside her in her bed but on the nights she and Veronica had their tensions, Star would redirect the young boy to the other vampires' room, where he now emerged confused and yawning.
"Oh, Laddie, what're you doing up? It's about to be morning soon." Such an odd saying she had never gotten used to, sunrise used to give her such joy, playing out under the rays, sunbathing under the rising heat. Now she could never see it again, at least not without the most immense discomfort imaginable.
"Why are Veronica and you mad at each other?" Such an innocent question caused another bout of hurt through the shaking girl, with open arms and trembling lips, Star allowed Laddie to return to her, holding him to her torso firmly. Wrapping him up with the blankets, letting out sniffles as she held the boy like her life depended on it, tucking them both into bed.
-----
It turns out the male vampires hadn't been too far from the cave, waiting by the old, rusted railings of one of the abandoned roads making conversation about whatever has been happening on the boardwalk. They appeared to have taken their wash in the ocean, although Paul had clearly missed a few spots here and there.
The breeze blowing in from the sea rustled their hair, their jackets stripped off and placed across the backs of their bikes. Paul and Marko play wrestled on the road in front of the unimpressed David and Dwayne who were passing the time with a couple of rolled cigarettes. It was only David who noticed the woman, fists still screwed tight by her sides, approaching the group, huffing under her breath.
"Oh, look who it is. Done already?" He teased as she came to a halt in front of the railing. She reached a hand out to snatch a cigarette from his slung coat and reached down to take her lighter out of her own pocket. Remembering she had left her jacket in the cave she sighed, extending the tobacco out expectedly to the bleach blond. A laugh rumbled from his chest but he lit her smoke nonetheless. Taking a deep puff, Veronica allowed the smoke to fill her lungs, a wave of release washed over her as she closed her eyes. Feeling eyes still on her, she waved them off "Nothing happened."
At this point, the two rowdy boys had stopped wrestling and turned to look at their friend. Veronica opens her eyes to stare back at them "She's still half human, I can't stand to be around her right now." A sigh passed her lips "She just refuses to feed, what's wrong with her?!" She whined, taking another puff from the cigarette clutched between her fingers. Dwayne reached out a hand to rest on her shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze, "She'll come around. I know you didn't take well to being one of us at first, but look at you now."
She appreciated the gesture but Veronica couldn't help but feel like he was wrong. Star didn't want to turn for her.
"Let's get you cleaned up."
And she never will.
It hadn't been a week since the mishap when the group returned to the boardwalk, following the same chaotic routine they always do; cause some mayhem, get a bite to eat then go hunting for more to complete their fill. Star and Veronica hadn't interacted too much afterwards, much to the grievance of the latter, the nights becoming more lonely. No matter how many parties and concerts they attend, it doesn't stop the tension between them. A hole felt itself form in Veronica as they grew further apart, it would be shocking to see how close they were formerly, but the truth has to come out eventually and revealing the nature of her true form practically made them strangers all over again.
Even now as the group sat outside the gates waiting for the curly-haired girl to return, Veronica knew it wouldn't be her bike she climbed onto tonight. Fiddling with her old lighter, she pretended to listen to whatever the boys were saying but not actually taking anything into her mind. Watching the crowds in hopes for Star to appear so she could put an end to another painful night.
Much to her relief, the girl emerged from the gates striding towards the group, an rare smile spread across her lips. For a moment, a foolish moment, Veronica assumed it was directed towards her, a replica grin spread across her face as she watched. Just as she was wondering what caused the sudden joy to overcome her, her smile was wiped off as another figure entered the scene. A boy with curly brown hair followed behind the young woman, watching her every move like a lost puppy.
Who is he? The thought jumped into her mind, pushing everything else aside to persist itself. The boy came to a sudden stop when he caught sight of the gang, clearly confused as to why a girl like Star would want to be around a group like them. With furrowed brows, Veronica watched the grinning girl move to sit on the back of David's bike. The whole group had turned to look at the starstruck boy, laughing amongst themselves as he had his eyes glued on Star. A younger boy with blond hair and a pierced ear stood by his side, mockingly bumping his elbow "Ha, she stiffed ya!" he chortled as the gang took off on their way.
Eyes staring off in front of her, they all continued their way to the cave not allowing the ogling stranger to disrupt their schedule. The others made jokes about the boy but Veronica didn't want to contribute, feeling out of sorts. Usually, she didn't allow boys like him to make her insecure but the way Star reacted to his longing stares made her feel like this time was different. Would she ever get the guts to leave, if she could resist the order of her sire would she?
She couldn't even bear to look in her direction as they dropped her off at the cave despite feeling her eyes pressure on the side of her head. Something she would be dying for a week or so ago is now something she avoided to the best of her abilities, she could almost feel the disappointment from the girl as they all drove away to take their next victims.
It was a girl and her boyfriend they had picked out tonight, they had caused some trouble with them a few hours prior and the merciless lot had decided to take their revenge on them. They had parked on an overhang looking out to the boardwalk, no doubt getting up to something sexual, however, unfortunately for them, their promiscuity was cut short by the bloodthirsty beasts. Ripping the roof off their car the group pulled both humans up and out, fighting over them like animals over scraps. An unfair distribution of two to five leads to hissing and pushing, but they all get at least a little blood from the victims in the end.
By the time they were done, it was as if the animalistic fighting had never happened, wrapping arms around shoulders and giving pats to backs. They all seemed in high spirits with no care in the world, all except Veronica who stayed behind while the rest started making their way back to the bikes. It is only when Marko reaches his arm out to sling over the woman's shoulder that he realises she's not there, turning around to look for her, he catches sight of her looking out to the silhouette of the seaside town unmoved from where she was feeding.
"Hey, you alright?" He called over, grabbing the attention of the other three. They all stare back concerned, Veronica doesn't respond instead continuing to look out over the cliff. Dwayne decides to take the initiative and make his way over to her, the rest staying behind so as to not crowd her. "You okay?" He repeats, careful not to get too close understanding the danger of sneaking up on an unexpected vampire.
No response. Letting out a sigh, he steps closer to the edge leaning over so he could get a glimpse of her. Although the look on her face doesn't give him much to go off either, a neutral expression sat on her features. "What's wrong?"
The boys start to edge closer, shuffling their boots on the dirt and gravel, taking their time to get to her. Lips clenched tightly around her teeth, eyes looking off with a gloss sheen, Veronica blinked rapidly or at least more than usual. Being empathetic in regard to his friend's emotions, Dwayne sent a sympathetic look her way, raising a hand to her shoulder, rubbing gently. The young woman tried acting unmoved by the gesture but her bottom lip started to quiver, she tightened her crossed arms as if doing so would provide her something to hold on to that might stop her from falling into shambles.
By this point, the rest had caught up coming to a stop just behind her, forming a half circle. They had half a mind as to why she was suddenly upset. "Guys stare at Star all the time," David spoke up, reassuring her in a way that would only be reassuring if said by David. "'Cause she's hot!" Paul interrupts, throwing himself in the mix. An appreciation for their efforts was felt by Veronica but it did little to improve her mood, arms moving to sway by her sides she doesn't move her eyes from the lights in the distance. "I know. But she's never reciprocated, she's never liked men looking at her like that. But. But, she. The way she looked at him."
They knew exactly what she meant, even through their jokes they could see what was right in front of them. They'd all been given looks like that by girls and guys alike throughout their lifetimes, both mortal and immortal, and that look replicated itself on Star's face. She likes the boy on the boardwalk.
Truth be told it wasn't just tonight that upset her so, it was weeks and months of pressure and denial weighing down on her shoulders finally buckling and falling down, crippling her with the pain of the hard truth. "She doesn't love me anymore. She hates me, thinks I'm a monster." The last of her speech slurred from the saliva building up in her mouth followed by a thick lump at the back of her throat. Her eyes try their best to shun the wetness forming under their lids, she let out a shaky, soft breath through her nostrils.
"Hey, that's not true!" Marko tried denying but the decision was already made up in the brunette's mind.
It carried on for days, the boy continued returning to the boardwalk looking for Star and she didn't resist, letting him look for her with amusement as she made no attempt to hide away.
Tonight, he stood looking at the stall offering ear piercings, wincing as the girl in the chair had the needle shoved through her lobe. Not far away, the gang stood chatting watching over the nightlife, they too found enjoyment in the young man's efforts, all except from Veronica who sat scornfully watching as Star made her way toward him.
She leaned over his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. The group were too far away to hear what it was but Micheal seemed to like what she said because as she turned around to walk away, he followed. A conversation ensued as they ventured down the pathway, giggling and smiling between themselves, Star gestured to the man's ear presumably offering to pierce it for him.
Veronica remembers when Star had pierced hers, before everything fell apart, before she knew what she was. They would visit the boardwalk and stroll around, like she and the boy were doing now, riding the rollercoasters, eating ice cream, and playing the games set up in the pop-up stalls. They'd visit the beach, let the salt water soak their feet, play music and dance under the moon. But those days are over, Star would much rather walk around with this stranger now.
The boys and Veronica watched as they disappeared around a corner, David took a puff from his cigarette not letting his eyes leave the spot where the two left. The dirty blonds looked slightly uncomfortable in contrast to their former laughing selves, sending glances towards their friend, who sat tensely on her bike. "It'll be okay." An uncharacteristic reassurance came from Paul, peaking out from behind Marko to look at the upset girl. The change in tone became apparent, before the thought of it all as a joke but now Star and the stranger had actually started talking, they realised how quick the tides could turn. If Star goes around becoming friendly with humans they can't be sure how long their secret would stay safe.
David tossed the butt of his cigarette to the side ordering the others to follow him as he peels off in the direction of the recently departed duo. Letting out a sigh of contempt muffled by the sound of roaring engines, Veronica followed the leader down the boardwalk. Stopping not too shortly after as they spot Star with the guy about to climb on his own bike. The bitter woman almost laughed at the petty excuse of a vehicle he drove, it clearly wasn't very powerful and certainly not much to look at.
Star looked slightly frightened by their sudden appearance, not for her own wellbeing rather giving a worried look toward the teenager, who clearly didn't feel safe around the gang circling him. "Where you going, Star?" David mocked the girl, who couldn't even look him in the eyes, "For a ride. This is Michael." She answered, pointing over to the young man. Micheal. So that's the name of the boy trying to steal Star, seduce her away from her rightful family, the only ones of her species around.
Veronica squints her eyes sending him a nasty scowl which he didn't go without noticing, goosebumps prickling the exposed skin of his neck and forearms. He reaches an arm back for Star to grab a hold of, "Let's go." but David doesn't let him get too far, calling out the girl's name. She looked back at the bleach blond, her thoughts playing a game of tug and war with what she should do, before looking at Veronica, her eyes drilling into her head.
Finally, she succumbed to his silent demand, walking back to his bike with her head down. As she was about to throw her leg over the back of his motorcycle, David's sharp voice stopped her in her tracks. "Veronica's bike." She looked up at him in bewilderment but knowing better than to argue, especially in front of company, she obeyed. Positioning herself behind Veronica, she wrapped slim arms around her waist sending ripples of goosebumps across the auburn haired girl's skin. The warmth against cold skin bringing a bout of serotonin through her, almost shivering, it had been quite some time since the two had been skin to skin, allowing their bodies to press up against one another. Curly brunette hair brushing her neck, the familiar scent of her perfume filling the vampire's nostrils, the product remained unchanged in the time she knew her.
Paul let out a chuckle at Michael's embarrassed face, looking at Marko who too looked like he was going to laugh. David's eyes remained on him, sizing him up with an intimidating and clouded look, "You know where Hudson's Bluff is, overlooking the point?" He questioned, accusatory. Michael shifted uncomfortably under the combined vexed gazes of David and Veronica trying not to look at them for too long, already self-conscious around the other males "I can't beat your bike."
David looked amused, "You don't have to beat me, Micheal. You just have to try and keep up." eyebrows raised to emphasise his point. Star shifted uncomfortably, pushing herself further into Veronica's back. Placing a hand on her arm, Veronica looked back "Hold on tight." receiving no response she started her engine following David and the rest.
Hollering and whooping, they all set off down the street making a turn to jump down the stairs leading to the beach. Pedestrians turned to look at the commotion, jumping back when the bikes narrowly passed by them. Sand flew through the air as the gang stormed down their own path, looking between each other letting out cackles and laughs, even Star looked like she was enjoying herself. Letting her hair flow behind her, giggling in Veronica's ear and squeezing her arms around her abdomen. The physical reunion between them seemed to have cheered Veronica up enough for her to join in on the screams of enjoyment.
Marko, by her side, sent a yell her way which she happily returned, the blond grinning at her bounce back from misery. Glancing back, the girl realised Michael was falling behind, which only inflated her ego, the natural sadism of her species prevailing as she enjoyed watching the boy struggle to prove himself. They continued travelling under the pier to the woods, the road becoming bumpy and uneven, something the vampires had become accustomed to but the human trailing behind them seemed to be having more of a struggle.
Eventually, they made it to the more rocky side of town, close to home, either they had slowed down or Michael had got the hang of the path because soon he appeared next to Veronica's bike, making eye contact with Star. Glaring at the unrelenting man, Veronica rammed her bike closer to his, not making contact but getting close enough to make his confidence wobble causing him to fall back a bit. The boys let out a laugh at Michael's panic, David slowing down slightly to slot himself by Veronica, blocking Michael from Star. He looked him deep in the eyes, goading him into going faster, pushing his buttons.
Their surroundings become more foggy the further they go, Michael looks around deliriously trying to find a better way to see but they are surrounded by the murk. His hands begin to shake and soon enough he loses balance, thrown to the side, his bike crashing on top of him, he lays on the floor coughing and clutching his head. He looks up, only then noticing he was at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean, infuriated he gets up, storming up to David. "What the hell are you doing, huh?!" A firm punch landed across the blond's face, his head swivelling to the side.
Star lets out a cry, trying to get off the bike and to the two men but she's held back by a firm grasp around her arm, Veronica holds on tight, not wanting Star to get in between the volatile boys. A hard look is exchanged as Star tries to pull back but the hold is unwavering, Laddie drops off from Dwayne's bike, now abandoned by the man to hold off Michael, running over to the two women, certainly scared by the violence. Gripping onto the skirt of Star, trying to keep far away from the yelling men.
Whatever fight was happening didn't last long with the boys laughing at Michael's 'macho man' persona, not putting much effort into holding him back. David ended up brushing it off as a joke and invited him over to their place to hang out with them and Star. The sound of the woman's name prickles his ears, as he appears to calm down at the prospect of spending time with her, he relents, looking down to the floor and agreeing. Clearly embarrassed by the way he was acting. Laddie reluctantly detached himself from Star, heading back to Dwayne, taking comfort in the man's now calm demeanour. Star gets back on Veronica's bike as well, gently wrapping herself back around the biker.
Fortunately, the cave wasn't too far only about a couple minutes drive from the cliff, they made it there with relative ease. Michael seemed very confused as they dispersed off the bikes and into the mouth of the cave, maybe assuming they were going to an actual house or bar instead of an old wrecked hotel laid under decades of rubble. Intrigued, he follows carefully watching as the boys jump down the steep bed of rocks like nothing, trying to replicate their steps in fear of falling and embarrassing himself further.
On the way down, Dwayne picked up a torch, setting it ablaze with his lighter and using it to light the way. Behind him, Laddie and Paul followed, Paul helping the boy on the way, being as careful as he could be not to let him drop. The remaining blonds trailed behind calmly allowing Star and Veronica to go at their own slow pace. No matter how long she'd been here, Star still feared falling down the acute pathway and Veronica never stopped giving her a helpful hand to hold, to reassure her of her balance.
Michael climbed down with careful footing, his way being suddenly brought to light when Dwayne used the torch to set fire to some old metal bins the gang used as furnaces. "Hit the rock box, buddy!" Paul called out to Laddie, who quickly ran off to grab the stereo. Once they were down, Star awkwardly removed her hand from Veronica's looking away as Michael dropped down beside them. The teen looked around in awe of the dusty old place, clearly not expecting much, never mind a whole set-up. David stood by the old fountain watching Michael's face for a reaction, "Not bad, huh?" he backed away, crossing past Paul, who climbed around the edge of the fountain waiting for Laddie to return. "This was the hottest resort in Santa Clara about 85 years ago. Too bad they built it on a fault. In 1906, when the big one hit San Francisco, the ground opened up and this place took a header," he suddenly clapped his hands to prove his point, making Micheal jump "right into the crack."
In the time it took for him to go into his little monologue, David had circled around the fountain and made his way back to the three still standing by the entrance, a grin spread across his face. Dwayne had lit the final furnace and Paul set up the stereo Laddie had carried back, looking through the tapes for music to play, Marko was nowhere to be found though that wasn't too out of character for him.
David looked the bewildered boy up and down, "And now it's ours." "So check it out, Mikey." Paul laughed, raising a blunt to his mouth with a grin spread across his face, lighting it with the lighter he'd swiped from Dwayne, echoes of laughter filled the cave. Marko returned from wherever he was previously, one of his beloved pigeons clasped in his hands, David called him over and asked him to get them something to eat. Obediently, the blond let his pigeon fly away and turned to leave the way they came, presumably to get some food for the lot.
David put an arm on Michael's shoulder, leading him toward the couches rested at the furthest corner, "That's what I love about this place. You ask, and then you get." he's handed a blunt by Paul as he continues walking around the fountain, giving a thank you. Something Veronica knew was only for show, she hadn't been thanked by him for anything she'd done for him in quite some time, none of them had.
The girl glanced toward Star, whose eyes stayed trained on the two making their way further into the cave. Tapping her on the arm, Veronica nodded her head toward Star's little nook, motioning for her to follow. Star understood, trailing after Veronica to the corner and sitting next to her on the bed. A hand was placed on her knee, giving an affirmative squeeze "You okay?" A coarse voice asked, Veronica cringed, realising not using her voice most of the night was starting to take effect. Looking off to the side, quickly glancing towards the others Star shrugged her shoulders, "As fine as I can be." A curt answer, one that didn't satisfy the question. Not being able to control what came out of her mouth next she turned slightly towards Veronica, "I'm sorry for not talking to you recently. Things have just been..." she didn't finish her sentence but she was understood. A sympathetic look crossed the biker's face, her hand still sat on the knee of Star "I understand," she didn't, she really didn't understand one bit "This must be hard for you." she could understand that, but wasn't the difficulty worth it for her?
Her questions would never be said or answered because right as she was about to speak, Marko jumped down from the ledge announcing his arrival with the food. The girls looked at each other once more before leaving the bed and heading to the main room where Marko was throwing Chinese takeaway boxes to open hands. As they were walking to the couches, Star stopped just a few feet behind David. Veronica, noticing her absence, looked back and motioned for Star to follow with her hand but received nothing except a shake of Star's head. Furrowing her eyebrows, Veronica didn't push simply flopping herself on the couch across from Michael, who was too busy watching Star to notice her. Feeling eyes on him, he turned his head to look at the scorned woman, glaring at him intensely "You okay there, Michael?" it was almost mocking in nature but Michael had become used to it at this point. "Didn't know you talked." he quipped back trying to be as friendly as possible to the ruder one of the lot.
A fake smile was sent his way in return, a box of noodles thrown to her which she caught with ease, not taking her eye off the boy. Becoming uncomfortable, Michael looked at David who handed him a box of rice "No. No, thanks." he tried to refuse but the leader pushed harder "You don't like rice? Tell me, Michael, how could a billion Chinese people be wrong? Come on." To shut David up, Micheal snatches the box, taking a bite. All eyes are on him when "How are those maggots?" Michael freezes, looking at David pointedly "Maggots, Michael. You're eating maggots. How do they taste?". Seeing the rest of the boys laugh, he assumes it's a joke but as he looks down at the contents of the box, he drops it to the ground in panic. Hundreds of fat, white maggots wriggle around in their cardboard container, making Michael's skin crawl.
"Leave him alone." Star plucks up the courage to speak, keeping her scarf close to herself. The boys laugh together, ignoring the girl's protest but Veronica turns to make eye contact, shaking her head as if to say 'don't interfere'. It wasn't until Michael looked down to the disregarded box that he realised, it was rice. He had been hallucinating, embarrassed at his reaction, he wiped his mouth. David let out a weak apology offering another box of food towards him, before he could even take it he noticed the wiggling pink flesh intertwined together; worms, the box filled to the brim with the earthly creatures. "They're worms." He looked like he was on the verge of throwing up, Veronica sat across from him cracking a grin at his discomfort. Before Michael could warn him otherwise, David used the chopsticks to lift the contents of the box into his mouth. Just as Michael was about to freak out he realised, it was simply noodles David started chewing.
Having enough of the torment, Star stepped forward to stop David "Enough." but she was brushed off without another thought. David motioned Marko forward, whispering something in his ear which sent Marko to the other side of the room. Soon enough, he returned with something in his hands and Veronica's interest peaked, she leaned over to see what he was holding. Her body becoming colder than it already was, eyes widened in surprise, lips going slightly slack, if she had a beating heart it would be pounding out of her chest.
Placed in David's hands was a regal wine bottle, to humans it would seem like it contained centuries-old wine but Veronica knew better. "David." His name escaped her mouth like an instinct, looking for reassurance from him but he spared her not even a glance. "David." Again, his name passed her lips but nothing was returned.
Star scurried over to Michael, who became very confused at the sudden silence. David took a quick swig from the bottle, a grimace passed over his face before he leaned forward "Drink some of this, Michael. Be one of us."
Her heart dropped. Betrayal was the only emotion she could feel right now although the word betrayal didn't feel strong enough for what she felt pounding through her body, rushing through her veins like ice. Michael lifted himself up and off the couch, retrieving the bottle from David's hand. The pain in her chest blooms as the others start chanting for him, goading him to drink it. Her self-proclaimed 'brothers' encourage the man who is actively trying to become involved with Star to join their family. Star rushed behind him "Don't. You don't have to, Michael."
Paul butted in voicing his disagreement, twisting her head to look at the rest of them, Veronica shook her head in disbelief. "It's blood." The warning came out as a whisper but Michael heard it, he didn't, however, want to make himself look like an idiot again. He took a large gulp from the bottle making the boys scream in approval, jumping in the air, treating this like a joyous celebration.
Not being able to take it anymore, Veronica stood up from her seat and beelined for the entrance of the cave, not looking back at the boys as they celebrated, clearly not caring about her departure. The night was still young, cold air blew in the upset girl's face threatening to expose the tears already brimming. She hunched over trying to catch the breath she didn't need but found comfort in, hands pressed firmly on her knees. There's no way she has any hope now, Star was already slowly separating herself from her but now the man she finds interest in has taken the first step to becoming one of them, what chances does she have now?
The feeling of bile made itself apparent, crawling up her throat like the hallucinations David had enforced earlier. She couldn't stick around, they'd surely come out to continue their initiation, they did it for her all those years back. Maybe they'd do it for her replacement too. She knew she'd caused some strain between them with her situation with Star but she didn't think it would make them do this.
Pulling herself together, Veronica stood to her full height walking to her bike, revving the engine, not caring if the boys heard. She had no idea where she'd go but she'd rather be anywhere but here.
Light poured through the entrance of the cave, covering the rocks and posters with a shade of yellow. The time when the dead slept and the living arose, but not today. In a hole in the wall, hidden away from the light, four panicked vampires congregated, wringing their hands, tapping their feet against the floor, pacing in what little room they had. Tension thick in the air as none of them spoke, all looking to their leader who was hunched over, sat on a boulder by the back of the hideout. The look on his face unreadable but the boys could tell he was distraught by the possibilities passing by in his mind.
"I just don't get it." A voice broke the silence, echoing between its rocky confines. Paul sat the closest to the exit being careful not to edge too close to the light, one knee to his chest and the other sprawled out, his fingers fiddling with the loose strings of his bracelet. Melancholy followed his statement with nobody answering him "I get she'd be mad at us but why would she not come home?"
Silence. Nothing but the sound of Marko's boots hot on the floor, pacing back and forth, trying his best to let off steam but the prospect of not being able to go outside and do something grating on his mind, fingers twitching as he lifted them up to bite. Dwayne looked down at Paul from where leaned against the wall, sadness written on his features "She'll come back."
But would she? They have done something irreparable and in the process, alienated their only sister. None of them had chosen for Michael to be the one to join the family but their choice didn't matter. Either way, it was too late, they had no idea where Veronica was and they'd have to wait until nightfall to go looking.
"But, what if she..." Paul looked back at Dwayne with concern, but the brunette quickly shut it down "There are plenty of places to hide from the sun apart from the cave, Paul." Of course, that had been their top concern when she didn't return home before the sun woke up, but they knew she was smart, she'd probably hidden out in a cellar or an attic in some unsuspecting occupant's house. But there's always a possibility that she hadn't and that thought rattled their mind.
Not much else was said for the rest of the day, Marko managed to catch up on some sleep, hanging by the entrance close to Paul, who couldn't seem to close his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. David didn't say a lot if anything, suffering his own battles in his mind. When the sun slowly lowered down past the ocean, the boys were practically on their toes to get out to the entrance of the cave.
As soon as all light disappeared fully, they rushed out heading to the upwards path, but soon they were cut off by a frantic Star "Did Veronica come home last night?" she stood in front of David who looked as if he didn't want to speak to her at all nevermind right now. "No. We're going out to look for her." Simple and blunt he barged past her with little regard but she wasn't done asking questions, stepping in front of him once more "Is she okay?" Desperation dripping from her voice, devastated by the idea of her not coming home for good.
David pushed passed once more, a rougher voice came from him this time "How are we supposed to know? That's why we're going out to look for her." the boys followed him out, walking around Star, who watched them in panic.
The air was misty and cold, blowing their hair in their faces, even their enhanced vision couldn't see through the fog cast over the seaside. Using his hand to shield his eyes, Marko looked towards David, or who he presumed was David, and yelled out over the sound of the whistling wind "Where are we supposed to look for her?" The gruff voice responded, confirming its identity "We'll head off to the boardwalk first, if she's not there we'll have to split up."
And so they did, taking their bikes out to their usual hangout spot, hoping she had some sense and decided to wait for them. She hadn't. When they got to the red gates, she was nowhere in sight. Kicking his bike in frustration, Marko was the first to start walking around the area, fist balled furiously by his side. "I don't get it, why isn't she here?" Paul questioned, looking side to side with his head urgently, clearly growing more concerned. David sighs "I don't know." The blond turns to look at him "You don't think she's..." he trails off, not wanting to finish the thought aloud. "I don't know!" David became more frustrated, snapping back. Before the blond could continue, Dwayne suddenly interrupted "Wait." raising his hand in the air "Follow me." he was quick to move past the rest of them, manoeuvring through the crowd with ease the rest of them following behind.
It was no secret Dwayne was the best tracker, there was no doubt he had Veronica's scent. Trust for him allowed the boys to tail after him until they got a more remote part of the sea front, small businesses and mom-and-pop shops lining the street and less people walked down the roads. The scent became stronger for the lot of them, exploding in their senses when they rounded a corner into an alley.
Footsteps stuttering when they saw the unmistakable figure leaning on the wall at the other end. With her arms crossed over her chest, Veronica didn't acknowledge the group stampeding towards her choosing to ignore them as if she didn't purposely set herself up somewhere she knew they'd find. Suddenly, a smack was delivered to the back of her head, letting out a sharp slap that echoed through the alley, "Ow!" a pained yell escaped her mouth as she reached up to grip her head. "What were you thinking, huh?!" Marko yelled, "You know how freaked we were when you didn't come back?!" Although his voice was raised the fear in it didn't go unnoticed, Veronica looked him in the eyes with sympathy but the words that followed didn't match up "Oh, you cared, did you? Would've thought you'd replace me with Michael by now."
A series of shocked and hurt expressions took over the group, a bewildered scoff came from Marko as he stepped closer to Veronica "What are you talking about? Why would you even think something like that?" It was her turn to scoff now "How could I think that?" she shook her head in disbelief, looking around to stare at anything but the boys, trying to keep her composure and not let the burning liquid in her tearducts fall. "You knew how I felt about him. You know how I've been feeling for months! And yet you still changed him. Why?" When none of them answered, she continued "I've been so hurt and I've shown you that. Nights where we should've been having fun I've spent crying to you!" Although the yell is directed at all of them, she makes eye contact with the brunette in particular, both of them knowing it was him who stuck by her the most in her sad nights.
"So, yeah, I'm wondering if you do care about me." She finished, tears threatening to spill although she made no move to wipe them. No answer came, even as the seconds turned into a minute, letting out a sad laugh she turned to walk away "Yeah, that's what I thought." Her boots tread on the gravel with each footstep, about to exit the other side of the alley. "Max." Everything stopped, an abscess in sound formed and no more steps were taken. All placebo breathing is gone and no one moves. The name they never spoke of was spoken, so matter of factly that Veronica couldn't believe she even heard it in the first place.
David looked at her cooly from where he stood at the end of the alley, his head turned slightly to meet eyes when she swivelled back around, "He told us we had to. That he wanted Michael's mom and the only way he could get her is if we changed him. We had no choice."
Of course, they didn't. No vampire could resist the order of their sire, she knew that but a new question formed in her mind. "Why didn't you tell me?" She gestured towards herself with her hand aggressively "Don't you trust me?" Dwayne intervened, lifting a hand up to reason "Now, you know that's not true." Paul, who had been uncharacteristically quiet through the confrontation, finally spoke up "We didn't know how to tell you! We're sorry, V, we're so sorry." A beg of forgiveness shattered her heart, deep down she knew it was true, as she looked in his pleading eyes she felt guilt form in her.
She couldn't bear to look at him anymore, letting her gaze fall to the wall, the next words were a whisper "Yeah, well, you should have told me." a hand clasped her shoulder making her look up. Dwayne had appeared before her looking at her with a small smile, "We know. Like Paul said, we're sorry. We just wanted to protect you but clearly we failed." he gently squeezed her shoulder trying to comfort the best he could.
A sigh passed her lips and she let herself look back to the rest of the boys, all stood hopeful for her to accept the apology "Let's go home." Cheers erupted from Paul whose spirits were clearly lifted, he barged past the brunette, who gave him an offended look, taking a hold of Veronica's shoulder and pulling her with him down the alley "That's more like it, babe! Let's go back to the cave and party!" Marko joined on the other side, the anger he had been feeling previously forgotten.
"You know, Star's been worried about you." Paul remarked nudging her with his hip, she scoffed in response letting her arms rest around both boys "Yeah, right! Like she'd care." The other two trailed behind them but not too far away for David to quip back "You'd be surprised." Paul let out a cackle "Yeah, she was all like 'Oh my god, you have to find her and save her and bring her back so I can smooch her and show her how much I love her'" he put on an obnoxiously high-pitched 'girly' voice, leaning down to pretend kiss Veronica's face.
This seemed to brighten her up a bit, a smile spread across her lips as she tried pushing away the hyper man, wiggling as Marko held her still, laughing at his friend's antics. David and Dwayne chuckled as they watched, overtaking them to the bikes "Come on, we don't have all night." the leader called out. The three rowdy teens stopped messing around to run back to their bikes, "Yes, Mom." Veronica joked starting her bike, the others laughed with her as David shook his head, pretending to be unimpressed.
They all peeled off back onto the road, driving past the pedestrians trying to cross the street, receiving angry yells in return. They laughed amongst themselves as they journeyed back to the cave, following the distinctive path they'd set over the years, a quicker route than what they'd taken the once-human now half-vampire on, less bumpy too.
The entrance of the cave came into view not too long after their departure, they slowed themselves to a stop off to the side, stashing their bikes by one of the large rocks outside the cave, hiding them away. The boys ran inside before Veronica, who stood motionless by the mouth of the den looking suddenly anxious, David gave her a nod of his head before disappearing with them. Tensing her hands she followed the group in, slowly walking down the pathway. Paul ran to grab the stereo and Marko left presumably to see his pigeons, Dwayne and David sat on the couches starting a conversation about something Veronica couldn't be bothered to take notice of, turning to go to her corner where she kept her comics.
"Veronica!" Star came rushing out from behind the sheets hanging from the ceiling, almost bumping into the woman before she came to a stop. A hand placed on her arm, looking up at her slightly, "Are you okay? Why didn't you come back last night?" looking over her instinctively to see if she was harmed. Returning a hand on her shoulder, Veronica reassured her with a gentle touch "I'm fine. I just wanted some time to myself." An angry look crossed Star's face "Some time to yourself? Veronica, we've spent all day worrying about you!" Still hung up with the confrontation earlier, the brunette sighed "I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to. Why don't you go to Micheal to take your mind off it?" Scrunching her eyebrows at the subtle dig, Star removed her hand backing up slightly "And what's that supposed to mean?".
Veronica shrugged "It means what it means, you can go to Micheal and forget about me like you've been doing for days now." An offended scoff came from Star, shocked at the accusation she moved past the brunette and stormed out of the hideout into the night leaving an upset Veronica behind. She turned to look at the boys to see they were already staring back awkwardly, trying not to look at them for too long she continued walking to her stash of comics, settling in the beanbag chair pushed into a sharp corner. Trying to ignore the eyes of the rest trained on her.
-----
The night went by painfully slow, no one spoke much and Veronica was actually pleased when the sun was about to rise, wasting no time to huddle back up in the nest. Completely ignoring the gang when they awoke the following night, she chose to head straight out to the boardwalk.
Throwing back rounds of liquor that wouldn't truly affect her, Veronica stood in a run-down old bar, leaning with her hands gripping the edge of the counter, putting her weight down on it. Trying to drown her sorrows in shots of the strongest the bar had, paying with money she'd stolen from her victims. The burning of the liquor pouring down her throat not affecting her in the slightest, the pain from not feeding for too long numbing her senses to any kind of other pain. The bartender looked at her with a raised brow, an oldish fellow with greying hair, wiping the cups in front of him "You okay there?" he inquired.
She swallowed the brown liquid and looked up at him with glazed eyes, her voice came out rougher than expected, "Fine." She looked back down to another shot lined up, her last one, about to pick it up to take one last gulp "I wouldn't be too sure of that." Turning around, Veronica straightened up when she saw David stood by the entrance with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Groaning, the brunette looked back down to her drink picking it up to throw it back when it was plucked out of her grasp by a gloved hand, David swallowed the drink without a grimace setting the glass back on the counter. "Gee, thanks." Veronica replied to the abrupt theft, David grinned back like he was proud, which he likely was, "No problem."
Looking up at the bartender, seeing he was no longer paying attention, David leaned down to be in earshot "Why don't you go back before you end up doing the impossible and getting wasted?" she rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the counter sending a nasty look David's way, but she knew he was right so she headed out. Clambering on her bike, she setting off down the road, for humans this would be a life-threatening decision but Veronica knew she'd be fine. After all, the dead can't die twice.
The ride back home always seems a lot longer without the boys by her side causing trouble, the path to home more bumpy than she remembers, less fun than when she's racing them down it. But the shortcut was still pretty quick, especially from where the bar had been, closer to the cliffs than the actual boardwalk itself. She climbed off her bike setting it aside when she noticed another bike sat in their usual spot, red in colour and quite small she recognised it immediately. Rushing into the cave, skipping quite a few steps on the way down she looked around for the boy but before she could call out for an answer, she heard it.
In the back of the cave, in Star's 'bedroom' rustling and muffled noises sounded. Curious but cautious, Veronica crept forward gently pulling back a blanket slung across the entrance when she saw them. Locked in a lover's embrace, littering kisses across one another's bodies, their upper bodies bare and their lowers covered by a blanket. It was as if time froze, the mortified woman stood silent watching the intimate moment unfold, breath caught in her throat. They didn't notice her, too enthralled with each other to pay attention to anything else.
Finally, Veronica was able to come to her senses and turn away, wanting to be as far away from them as possible. She felt bile rise up in the back of her throat, threatening to spill out the contents of her stomach, suddenly regretting the pints of alcohol she had consumed. She stumbled away, her body begging for a way to release the pressure building in her, wishing for the ability to sweat again for the first time in her immortal life. She had to ground herself by leaning on one of the walls, the noises still playing in the back of her mind, taunting her.
Stumbling slightly, she ventured back up to her nest trying her best to ignore what was happening in the other room. Once through the small passage, she snuggled into the spare blankets slung across the floor, pressing her head into the sort fabric to drown out the foul noises infiltrating the walls. Hands on her knees, she rocked back and forth just to keep herself moving, hoping it'd make time pass quicker.
-----
Veronica wasn't too sure how long it had been since she crawled in her hole but the noises had stopped quite some time ago, not that she'd noticed, her memory still replaying the awful racket in mind like it wanted to torture her on purpose. Hunched with her back to the wall, legs crossed and blanket still covering her lower half, she peaked up at the sound of a new noise entering the dark zone, joyous and playful she recognised it as her brothers returning from town. Mentally preparing herself for the earful and awkwardness she was about to experience, she tried straightening up but struggled with numb limbs and the migraine that washed over her as soon as she made an attempt to move, groaning in discomfort.
"Woah, what happened to you?" A boisterous voice asked from the entrance, walking with loud footsteps to stand in front her. Paul looked down in amusement at the sight of his tipsy sister, nudging her with his foot, receiving a weak attempt at a slap in return. Laughing with Marko, who just arrived, he crouched down to try and catch a glance at her face.
Veronica wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to look up at the two boys who were now being joined by the remaining two of the group. "You know, drinking your problems away isn't going to help." Dwayne looked down almost disappointed by the state in front of him, but the smaller brunette couldn't seem to care less, simply giving a shrug "Well, sure as hell feels like it does."
David stood in front of Veronica with an annoyed expression dawned on his features "You need to stop this, you can't keep moping forever." A nasty look presented itself on the girl's face, trying her best to look up at David as she responded "Oh, yeah? And what do you suggest I do?" The bleach blond leaned down to pull off her boots "Well for starters, you can sleep off the gallon of booze you cleared." he yanked her up suddenly, ignoring her protests. The world starts to spin and she wanted nothing more than to sit back down and close her eyes but David stops for no one, flying up to the top of the nest to the rafters where they slept. Looking at her pointedly, like a stern father, he motions her towards them. An annoyed sigh echoed as she used her flight to hang upside down from the bars, using her feet now transformed into claw-like attachments. The rest of the boys joined her side, hanging close by her to settle in before the sun fully rose. Although she fought it, the black screen of sleep blinded her vision and her thoughts slowly dwindled to nothing.
-----
When her eyes snapped back open, it was dark once more. Veronica looked to her side and realised the boys were gone, unfolding her arms, she peered at the small clock face wrapped around her wrist, 3:45. She must have slept through both day and night, her body trying to work off the toxins consumed by her the night before. Dropping from the rafters, she peeked out from the hideout into the main part of the cave, completely desolate and abandoned, she assumed the boys must have left for the boardwalk. She wondered if she had enough time to hunt before the sun came up. Not having anything to eat for two days finally taking effect on her body, feeling groggy and tired she leapt down into the lobby, heading for the exit, when she noticed a figure sitting on the couches alone.
Approaching steadily, Veronica recognised Star with her hands rested on her lap, zoned out staring at the wall behind the opposite couch. Jumping when she realised someone was behind her, Star looked up at Veronica wide-eyed. "Oh, it's you." she looked down at her hands. Raising her eyebrows, Veronica stared at her "Well, hello to you too." the sarcasm in her tone made the sat girl snap her head back up to look at her "I didn't mean it like that. I just..." she trailed off, staring off in thought "I've been going through a lot." fingers fiddling on the fabric of her skirt.
Veronica plopped down on the next pillow over, an arm resting on the back of the couch. Star avoided eye contact with her until she spoke up again "Yeah, and what's that?". Feeling a pair of eyes staring at her, Veronica slowly meets their gaze, brown meeting brown. Star's lips slack a bit to try and say something but she doesn't, a guilty look on her face and her cheeks pale. The sound of the old leak in the back on the right side of the cave tapping like a clock, reminding them of their time and taunting them as they sat awkwardly in their spots. "Um, nothing important." she broke the contact, turning back around to stare at what she had been before, she wanted so badly to admit what she'd done but Veronica could see the fear of consequences deep in her.
Scooching closer, Veronica leaned down slightly to look at Star "I know." The look on the woman's face would be hysterical to her if it hadn't been for the circumstances, shame blatant on her face which now tried to bow from view. "About what?" Voice cracking, giving away her already shaky facade. A scoff passed Veronica's parted lips "You know exactly what I'm talking about." the 'exactly' emphasized sending an echo through the cave. Shaking her head, Star looked up "It's none of your business." the pain that one sentence caused the dark-auburn haired girl unexplainable, is this what they had come to? She thought.
What came from her mouth next was a surprise even to herself, "Well, You didn't seem think that when I was the one to protect you from the boys. Maybe I should let them kill you like they always wanted to, if I'm clearly not important enough for you." wide eyes stare back at her but she paid them no mind, getting up from the couch and making her way out of the cave.
Refreshing air wafting in her face, she took in a deep breath of the cool fog trying to hold her composure. A hand raised to brush through tussled hair, she peered out to the ocean watching the waves crash into each other. About to turn around and walk away, the boys appeared only a few feet infront of her, covered head to toe in blood, their clothing ripped and muddy. "What the hell happened to you?" Veronica looked them up and down, shocked at the state of them. They were always messy feeders but they had never come home looking like this before.
They all walked forward but Paul was the one to wrap an arm around her shoulders, "Messing with Mikey." he chuckled, pulling her along back towards the cave. She resists, planting her feet to stop the blond from moving her. Looking back, Paul raised his eyebrows "Something wrong?" The others stopping behind them puzzled as to why they weren't moving, confusion turned to concern when they saw the pale look across Veronica's face. "Hey, you okay?" Dwayne peered down at her, hand placed on her shoulder, still covered in blood.
A sigh passed Veronica's lips, not saying much but it wasn't needed because the boys already understood "Trouble in paradise, huh?" David passed by the group and headed down into the cave, a glare sent his way. "Me and Star got into a fight." Marko huffed as he followed the leader "Yeah, what else is new?". Frustrated with their humour, Veronica shoved past the boys and headed down the path, "Hey! Where you going?" Paul called after her. "To eat!" She continued storming down the rocky turaine until she was out of sight, thoughts whirling like a storm in her head.
It felt like some kind of torture. Hiding away in the nest, isolating herself from Star. Once so desperate for her attention now trying her best to keep away. Like an alcoholic on a clean streak, she tried her best to stop herself from giving into temptation. She had no doubt Star would be out visiting him, forgetting all about her existence for a short while. The thought made her sick but it was a hard truth. Even now as she hangs upside down next to her brothers, trying to conform to sleep, she thinks about what Star is doing, she wonders if Michael has stayed over once more.
Is she making plans to see him? Is she forming an intimate relationship with him? More than just the sex and banter they had shared previously? Has she finally done away with her after months of building a bond? What if- shriek. Snapping her eyes open, Veronica whipped her head to the sound of the noise. Three boys stood off to the side, balancing on the rocks jutting out of the wall, two of them she couldn't recognise but the one closest to the floor she identified as the boy that had been hanging around Michael on the boardwalk. In the hand of one of them is a stake, now covered in dark shiny blood.
Realisation hit her when the sight of Marko flailing caught the corner of her eye. Blood flowing out of him at an alarming rate, splattering the walls. The gang, sensing the attack close to her, jumped into action, flying off their places at the teens, trying their best to grab a hold of them. However, they were too quick, squirming their way out through the way they came, only just escaping David who managed to grab one of their ankles. A hiss passing through his lips when the light caught his hand.
Quickly remembering the injured, Veronica turned around to look at Marko, now laying on the floor with Dwayne and Paul surrounding him. Hurriedly running over to them, she looked the boy up and down to find his injury. His heart. Penetrated clean through with the jagged wood, there was no way to save him now, but that didn't stop them from trying. Multiple hands roam around desperately trying to pull his shirt off to get a better look at his wound. A retch escaped Paul's mouth when the ulcerating puncture revealed itself, the thick dark blood oozing out at an uncontrollable rate spreading down Marko's chest, down his stomach and making its way onto the rest of them. Dwayne placed his hand down hard on Marko's chest, causing a pained groan to escape him, tears stream down his reddened face as he whimpers incoherently. Veronica reached out to place a hand on his cheek, stroking it with her thumb "It'll be okay. It'll be fine." but her tone said otherwise, eyes darting back and forth between the wound that Dwayne was trying to stop bleeding and Marko's clouded eyes.
Slow blinks became far and few between, the panicked heave of his chest coming to a gradual stop. Marko stared off head-on into nothing. He was dead.
-----
Wails and sobs echoed off the cold stone walls, some loud enough to cause their ears to ring but they couldn't care about that now. The pain taking over their hearts is more painful than any physical discomfort could ever bring. It had been going on for hours, Paul curled up on the floor clinging on to what was once Marko, now just a dead body with no soul. Dwayne and David sat off to the side, the brunette held his head in his hands trying to process what had happened and the blonde had his fists clenched, a cigarette between his fingers as an escapism which wasn't working. Veronica leaned against the wall trying to keep calm through the panic, her fingers messing with the sleeves of her jacket, eyes darting around anywhere but behind her, where the tragedy has taken place.
Through the grief, a prominent thought stuck out in her mind, was Star okay? If what she had suspected was true and Micheal had orchestrated this, did he steal Star? Was she safe? There's no way she would've let him do this, was there? The more she contemplated it the more unsure she became, the two of them had been very distant lately and they had a fair few arguments but that wouldn't warrant this, surely.
It appeared Dwayne had a similar thought on his mind although about Laddie, he hoped they wouldn't go as far as hurting the little boy but knowing vampire hunters, he didn't think it was too far fetched. The group hadn't said a word after they realised he was truly gone, they would much rather well in their own pity and anger. The sun was almost down and Veronica could tell David was desperate to get out, cigarette discarded on the floor and jacket thrown on, she similarly waited at the entrance watching the light slowly ebb away. It took Dwayne placing a gentle hand on Paul's shoulder to make him snap back to reality, eyes red from the constant crying, he reluctantly let Marko's body rest on the floor as the brunette helped him up. The sun was gone "Come on."
It didn't take more than David's words to make them soar out of the cave, out into the new night and down the trail of the boys' scents. All the pain from before morphing into complete and utter rage, growling as they flew through the air the group surveying the land below until they caught eye of the young blond boy from before. They dived down to chase the boy, Paul in the lead, causing him to scream in panic pulling his husky dog with him by its leash. Luckily for him he managed to squeeze through the front door of his home and lock it in time to get away from the predators. Letting out an angry huff, Paul gave a defiant punch to the locked door.
"Split up." David instructed before rounding the corner of the building, Veronica decided to take the upper window on the left, swooping through with ease and landing on the carpeted floor. It appears to be someone's bedroom, maybe Michael's or his brother's, but the brunette doesn't stop to take in the scenery, running out into the hallway looking side to side for anyone. Although she wanted to get revenge for her fallen brother, Veronica's top priority currently was to find Star and make sure she was safe, only then would she exact vengeance.
About to exit down the end of the passage, a body collided with her own knocking her slightly, immediately on guard Veronica seized the offender with a harsh grasp, yanking them away from her body to look at them directly. The aggressive growl about to pass her lips quietened when she recognised the girl she was looking for. A look of relief passed her face and the grip on the girl's arms loosened, Veronica quickly looked her over with her eyes relieved when she saw no obvious injuries. Star clutched her desperately as pleas for both help and mercy babbled incoherently from her, "Please, I'm sorry, you can't let them get me." she buried her face in the vampire's shoulder. Veronica wrapped her arm around her and pulled her impossibly closer surveying the area for the vampire hunters she assumed had been in pursuit of her.
"Okay, let's go." Veronica gently ordered leading Star down to the stairs. Suddenly, the sound of a scream came from behind them, whipping their heads around in unison, they noticed the voice sounded very young. "Laddie." Star whispered pushing herself out of the brunette's hold and sprinting down the hallway, "Star!" Veronica panicked but the girl didn't listen, already disappearing into a different room. Catching up to her, Veronica entered the room where Star stood with Laddie behind her guarding him away from the young vampire hunters now closing in on them "Get away from him! You just stay away from him! He's just a little boy." Veronica stepped in front of them both causing the boys to raise their weapons "Jesus Christ!" the boy dressed in military attire screamed "Let's kill it!" the one with a bandana wrapped around his head yelled. Charging forward they were quickly discarded by the vampire, shoving the camo clad one to the side and grabbing the other one by the throat and throwing him at the opposite wall, narrowly missing the window only slightly.
A gasp passed Star's lips as she cowered in the corner, the young boy still pressed behind her. Veronica watched as the hunters quickly got up and rushed out of the room and into the bathroom. Not wanting them to get away with what they did so easily, she followed pushing the bathroom door open and running in only faltering when she saw the macabre scene waiting for her. The walls and floor are covered in thick blood, water dripping off every surface, but it got so much worse when she caught sight of the bathtub. Nestled deep in the tub, a skeleton stripped bare of its flesh sat with water up to its shoulders. If it hadn't been for the jacket wrapped around it's bones Veronica wouldn't have realised who it was. "Paul." A heartbroken whisper passed her lips as she turned away from the scene, unable to stomach the sight any longer.
Quickly departing from the room and into the hallway, running down the stairs and into the living room. From one murder scene to another, the body of Dwayne is laid in pieces by a busted stereo, his body parts strewn around messily. Turning her head she only brought more pain to herself, David's body hung impaled on the horns of an animal skull rested on the wall. They're all dead. All of them. Tears stung Veronica's cheeks as she hiccuped, she almost succumbed to a pathetic weeping state until she saw Michael step forward to leer over her dead brother's body "You!" Michael whipped his head around to the call of his name, standing on guard when he saw the lone vampire.
Lunging forward, Veronica grabbed Michael by the throat, squeezing down on his air pipe. The half-vampire mirrored her actions, trying to push her away from his neck with his other hand. A panicked yell came from the stairs the vampire had descended only moments prior, coming closer quickly "Stop!" It was Star. "Stop it, both of you!" she begged but was ignored immediately. Baring her teeth at the halfling, Veronica lunged forward again taking a bite out of his face, a pained yell escaped him, his agony reflected in the way he tightened his grip around her throat. It wasn't until his gaze looked past her and his eyes widened that his fist loosened and Veronica had a chance to glance at what he was looking at.
Behind her, Star stood with a thick stake raised in her hand, an unsure look on her face "Both of you need to stop." She used the piece of wood to gesture at both of them as a threat, all three of them knew she wouldn't be able to carry out on her threat barely having the courage to stand up to the two fighting. With Michael's grip loosened, Veronica managed to squeeze herself out of his grasp and toward Star who was clearly in distress "Star, put that down. You're not going to use it we both know that. Just come to me and put it down." Before she could get a response she felt a harsh shove to her back push her forward, suddenly she was only centimeters from Star's face, chest to chest, the feeling of being punched shooting through her. It was only when she pulled back did she realise the stake in Star's hand had penetrated her chest and impaled itself in her heart.
A gag jumped from Veronica's throat stumbling back and looking down at the damage. Star's shock is apparent on her face, becoming clear she never intended to use such a weapon on her. Reaching her arms out to Veronica as she fell to the ground, the sound of the impact and the pained gasp echoing through the room. Her blood staining the floorboards below her, the brunette looked at Star in desperation as she leaned over her. Gargled gasps came instead of the words she tried to speak, a lost attempt to lift herself up failing. "Oh God." taking a fist full of Veronica's jacket to steady herself, Star looked down in what could only be described as guilt.
Guilt. For what she had done or at the very least enabled. A series of 'Oh, no's and 'Oh god's fell from her lips like gospel, as if chanting it would make the situation any better. A gentle hand tried its best to stroke hair out of Veronica's face, clearing her vision. Spluttered coughs rattled her body, straining her lungs with a burning sensation spreading across her chest. Looking over the immobile body before her, Star let out a weep that shattered the dying girl's soul, trying her best to reach up to her but the attack had made too weak.
Star grabbed her hands and held them together in her own "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Apologies flowing out of her mouth desperately, tears uncontrollably pouring out of her eyes and down her cheeks, some even landed in the lying girl. Her image soon became a shadowy figure to Veronica's struggling eyes, the strong effort she made to keep them open soon dissolving along with the muscles in her neck trying to prop her head up. "I'm sorry." Star repeated "Please don't go. I didn't mean to." The remaining vision Veronica upheld turned dark, her once lively eyes became glazed and unfocused. "No. No, don't." Star begged, tears now blurring her own vision.
A final breath raised her bloodied chest and then; nothing.
#star the lost boys#the lost boys#the lost boys oc#character x oc#the lost boys 1987#star tlb#oc x canon#the lost boys x reader
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I AM SOBBING
Dear Chief, Persephone, I am begging you please, holy shit you’re so brave I’d be crying from sheer shame if I manage to piss off an organization of deadly women so badly you get your clothes branded with such a thing.
Nightingale and Langley and Shalom is such a mood, with Nightingale trying to sound Very Professional but also this close to just asking, chief, why, on top of the paperwork for the entire week that she has to deal with because dear chief is spirited away to get herself absolutely fucked silly. God I want to write that part so so so bad right now.
Poor Chris getting dragged to the problem even though she was not even there URNDBDNFHSNDB
It is not so much that Persephone is brave, as much as it is that she has a few screws loose...or rather all of them are loose lol.
If you want to write Persephone getting railed by the Garden, please feel free to go ahead, I would be happy to see it and am honored this gave you that idea, I would try it myself but I am not that confident in my own ability to write such a thing.
Also, at least Chris will not be alone in her torment lol, Rahu and thistle will be right there with her...though Thistle is likely to take out her anger at her trying to throw her under the bus and what she is going to have to endure on Chris when Shalom is done with them.
Poor detective is not going to be walking anytime soon lol.
I also have this image of Chris' sister visiting her, looking at Thistle and telling her she has horrible taste in women if she likes her sister right in front of said sister.
That she and Thistle get along like a house on fire soon becomes a bittersweet thing for Chris to deal with lol.
Take care and stay safe.
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I Just Want A Life With You
I don't write enough angst. And there's a reason for that, but I'm feeling mean today so here I go traumatizing my favorite already traumatized fictional man. Nothing actually graphic happens but still rather sad. I made myself sad with this one.
Armitage woke to the sound of birds in the distance. The morning sun was pouring in through the open window, a soft breeze making the sheer curtains dance. He groaned and reached out but huffed when he felt nothing. Cracking one eye open his suspicions we're confirmed by the lack of you. He'd wanted to remain in bed with you longer, savoring that bliss of half consciousness. But his heart didn't like the idea of your absence. Rousing himself he threw on some casual clothes. Loose fitting, soft woven things that were in stark contrast to the starched uniforms he'd grown up in. Despite the lack of familiarity, he preferred these clothes more.
Padding softly down the hallway he smiled as he entered the kitchen. There you stood, in your perfection, brewing some caf and something delicious cooking nearby. The golden sunlight shone in through the generous amount of windows. You'd been so adamant on having sunlight in your shared home. And he'd been happy to give you that. Anything you wanted, he'd give you.
Your body was covered in similar clothes, but he always noted how much better they suited you. The lightweight fabric made you etherial in the morning glow. You hair tousled and unbrushed, wild, like your spirit. His fingers itched to tangle themselves in the strands.
Armitage would have stood there for ages, gazing upon you but that need to touch you overtook his enjoyment of your visage. Quietly he snuck up behind you and wordlessly wrapped his arms around your waist. He was rewarded with your laugh, crisp and pure like a bell.
"Good morning darling." You greeted. He replied wordlessly but bending his head to press a kiss to your neck, leaving his face buried there as he took in your scent.
No bothersome thoughts entered his mind for once. Nothing about the First Order. No duties, no deadlines to plague him. His only thought was how lucky he was. To be here with you, in this moment. To have you. You absentmindedly reached a hand back to card through his hair and he hummed happily at the touch.
"Credit for your thoughts this morning?" You grinned, you could practically hear the gears turning in his brain.
"I love you." Was all he said and yet those three words said everything. You turned your head to meet his lips in a kiss.
A beeping jolted Armitage awake, his mind whirling in confusion about the change of reality. His hand flailed around until finally hitting the button to shut off the screaming alarm. He lay there for a moment, panting from the shock. His brain finally caught up with itself and he couldn't help himself. Hot salty tears began to stream down his face and though the act disgusted him, he was powerless to stop it.
He awoke to the familiar cold metal of the Finalizer. Alone. A day of burden and responsibilities waiting for his attention.
It was cruel for his subconsciousness to torment him with dream of happiness. A happiness he could never have. Despite everything he'd done in life, all he'd achieved, he knew deep down that the happy domestic life with you was nothing short of a fool's dream. Never to come to fruition. And still, he wept for the one thing he knew he could never have, yet yearned for so desperately.
#fictional other#armitage hux#star wars#general hux#my writing#drabble#general hux x reader#hux x reader
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Quotes
Life is a reason to live and a passion to feel.
Fiction is an enigma of the self.
Art is the mirror of nature.
The dead become memories of experience.
Music is the painting of words.
Figures of speech have to be experienced as art.
Listen to your inner soul.
My self surrenders to passion.
God’s footsteps are path for light to follow.
Desire is the source to pleasure.
Make dreams a working reality.
In ecstasy and orgasm the self-partakes a mystic joy.
Love the self as it’s a soft soul.
A merry self lacks no joy.
When the world puts you down rise up with optimism.
Make figures of speech an active life.
The self is an opulent ornament.
When an opportunity comes grab it with outstretched hands.
A rainbow is a painting made by God as a covenant of peace.
Carry no demons of envy, malice and covetousness.
Wit is seasonal flesh.
God gives more than you ask.
The etiquette of happiness is contentment.
Let loose your passion.
God’s morals are a conscience of reason
Find time to exercise passions.
Liberty has to thrive with freedom.
Take a risk and see what you get.
Wisdom is the folly of the lover.
Wisdom is the path to philosophy.
Finance gratifies the body.
Nietzsche is a wounded soul.
Walking on water is spiritual acrobatics.
Demons are spirits that antagonize the self.
Torment in hell is more than you can imagine.
Man’s search for beauty never ends.
Existence is the essence of meaning.
Life is the flow of a river.
We can take refuge and help in God.
Socrates was a wise philosopher who knew nothing.
I want God to make my footstool earth a prosperous dwelling place.
Lust is an ecstatic sin.
I have done fornication on the bed of poetry and I feel truly repentant.
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Ghosts - wip
potentially triggering content below the cut
Hope you guys enjoy!
(wc: 7.5k)
1 - Ghosts Make Great Friends
Ethel is a Ghost Girl.
Mother Nyx says she is blessed
Ethel knows she is burdened.
Being a Ghost Girl may be a great gift, but with it comes a load of responsibilities her lithe shoulders feel too narrow to carry. And yet, she finds a quiet sort of enjoyment in Spirit-speaking.
“Only special people are chosen for this job, Ethel,” Mother Nyx likes to say when she senses her child’s growing displeasure.
Ethel imagines the immortal woman saying it as she walks along the sidewalk, bags heavy in her arms. She suppresses a shudder as a memory resurfaces: Mother Nyx’s sharp features shrouded in dark anger as she inked a fifth Tally into the book on her desk.
Ghost Girls are not true immortals; with only ten lives to their names. Mother Nyx keeps a count of her girl’s lives, drawing a line to represent each failure and sacrifice. She takes it upon herself to remind each of her children’s proximity to death’s doorstep. The woman claims her warnings are caring, but Ethel has only ever found them malicious, a calculated sort of torment, because with every warning, a challenge follows.
“Be grateful as you continue to carry out your duties.”
She is grateful- somewhat, at least. She is grateful for the ghosts she has had the pleasure of speaking to and for the endless stories she’s learned as a result. She harbors no hard feelings towards the many beautiful sights that come with being a Ghost Girl.
What Ethel will forever hate is speaking to new ghosts, for every conversation she’s been forced to have with one ends with a heart that’s been ripped out of her chest. The newly-dead are always vengeful and angry. Every encounter with one traps Ethel in a fight for her lives.
Ethel is walking home from the grocery store when she sees five lines carved into the sidewalk, every single one too straight to be natural. She nearly falls, blood freezing in her veins. The girl almost drops the bags in her arms in surprise, but begins to run home nonetheless.
A new ghost, she thought, consciousness tinged with alarm. It’s nearby.
Mother Nyx, when leaving her cruel reminders, does so in the form of lines scratched in plain sight. Mortals would look the other way. Ghost Girls would know instantly what it meant; Mother Nyx was angered by one of her children’s failures and was ordering them to battle a new ghost as both a chance for redemption, and as a punishment.
The first time Ethel saw a line clawed into the wood of her dingy apartment’s door, decades ago, when she lived someplace else, she didn’t realize it was a Tally.
Locks of hair darker than a raven fall from the loose ponytail they were tied into when Ethel begins to walk as quickly as her plentiful amount of heavy bags will let her.
If Ghost Girls were not meant to be such well-kept secrets, she thinks bitterly to herself, I’d use my wings to get home. I’d leave before I earn another Tally.
Ethel no longer takes joy in her work, but she will always love her wings. Darker than even her hair, the feathers stretch far. When she unfurled her wings for the first time, decades ago, Ethel thought they could block out the sun itself.
I could’ve saved Icarus, she once said, silver eyes sparkling with the sort of eagerness only children have. I could have kept the sun’s rays at bay.
In the decades since then, though, there has been no Icarus to save.
She keeps a journal listing every old delusion hiding behind the guise of being a dream.
Ghost Girls are not heroes, it says on the first page in her loopy, cursive handwriting. You do not exist to save people.
Heroes have colorful capes. Ghost Girls have night-black wings that reveal the death they all have to work with. Heroes carry noble burdens, tasked with keeping people alive and safe. Ghost Girls are servants of the afterworld itself, ferrying wandering ghosts to where they are supposed to be.
Ethel wishes for her wings as she runs home.
A few people look over, gazes tainted with confusion, for why would she be running? No one sees a predator, something chasing her down like prey, but she runs like it all the same.
Mother Nyx’s words never fail to repeat themselves when Ethel needs them least.
Do not run from a job, Ethel. If there is a new ghost, you must face it head on. Even in her head, the immortal woman’s voice carries the eternal weight it always does. You are a Ghost Girl for a reason, my dear.
But lately, Mother Nyx hasn’t seemed all that wise. Her wisdom hasn’t seemed all that worth following, so Ethel keeps running.
Her sneakers pound against the sidewalk, a steady rhythm almost faster than her racing heartbeat. Her footfalls are war drums, announcing a fight she desperately doesn’t want to happen. Ethel runs. She runs even as her shins scream louder with every impact. She runs even as the ache in her legs toes the line between pain and agony,
If a few apples or boxes of bandages fall out of her bags on the way, she doesn’t notice.
Before Ethel can turn the corner onto her street, the familiar shriek of a new ghost pierces her pounding ears.
She curses under her breath, dropping her groceries onto the pavement. The girl mutters an incantation under her breath, a simple jumble of words that hide her and any damage from other gazes.
The new ghost rounds the far street corner and Ethel goes still.
Translucent silver projections of the people they once were, ghosts are breathtaking. Their eerie and otherworldly beauty rather haunting to even seasoned Ghost Girls. Ethel thinks that new ghosts have a rather ugly sort of beauty, if that’s even a thing.
Chancing a glance over her shoulder to check and make sure that the incantation worked, Ethel takes a breath, conjuring images of great birds to her mind and calling upon the eldritch power burrowed deep in her gut.
Ravens, eagles, vultures, and flocks of starlings flying in impressive formations.
Ethel exhales deeply, the corners of her lips turning upwards at the faint sound of feathers flapping behind her. She doesn’t dare look back, not yet, not until she knows her wings are ready to carry her into the sky.
I may never save Icarus, but that doesn’t mean I can’t become him.
With a war cry loud enough to shake the cruel world, Ethel shoots forward, black feathers carrying her farther than her tired legs ever could.
The new ghost whirls around, its grotesquely twisted face right in view. Eye sockets stretched downward with distress, and cheeks streaked with permanent tear stains, irises red with new-ghost-rage.
Swallowing any terror threatening to freeze in her veins, Ethel draws out an old fountain pen from a hidden pocket in her shirt and mutters another incantation. A crystal blade appears in her hand the second she finishes the last syllable.
Ghost Girls are not heroes.
Your sword is your savior; never part ways with it, is written below the previous in the running list in Ethel’s journal.
Soul Blades should be sacred things. More beautiful than sunrises, more elegant than the most regal of monarchs, stronger than pride of lions, Ethel believes that Soul Blades should be kept in museums for little kids to gawk at, eyes wide with wonder, instead of wielded against death itself.
And yet, because she doesn’t want another Tally to be scrawled in Mother Nyx’s book, Ethel draws her sharp features into something even sharper. Countenance shadowed by fierce determination, she throws herself into every ruthless slash of her weapon,
But new ghosts are not infamous for no reason.
Just corporeal enough to cause painful damage, the ghost rakes its nails, long and sharp like claws, down Ethel’s side in an effort to throw her off. It works.
Ethel screeches, scrambling backwards, giving herself a few heartbeats to breathe. She looks down at her abdomen, at the blood welling up from the deep wound, staining her cream-colored top at the side and the collar. The garment is ruined, she knows.
Just another thing I hate about this, a voice grumbles in the depths of her mind. Yet another thing completely ruined.
New ghosts are quicker than she ever remembers, though, and Ethel’s breath is ripped from her lungs as a gash is clawed along her body before she can attempt to defend herself anymore.
Clenching her jaw to avoid screaming in agony as the life in her body starts to ebb away from the sound in her side, the Ghost Girl twists to avoid another deadly swipe before lunging, silver sword hilt gripped tightly by scarred fingers.
Mother Nyx, despite every other reason Ethel hates her, is grateful for her training.
Her crystal blade strikes true, sinking right into the new ghost’s translucent chest,
The effect is instantaneous as always. The new ghost’s body begins to glow, sad blue shade giving way to a more cheery cerulean. All the tension fades from it, figure shrinking into itself. Claw-like nails return to normal, tear stains fading, and eyes losing their horrifyingly distorted quality.
Ethel steps back, withdrawing her sword. She sways on unsteady, tired feet, trying to blink away the fog and dizziness that comes with exhaustion and the first stages of death. Exhaustion sets in even faster and she crashes to the ground, pain sparking up her knees as they hit the asphalt.
The new ghost tilts its head, curious about the winged being dying before it.
A lover of epics and legends, Ethel thinks back to the tale of Icarus, marvels at how the Roman poet, Ovid, would describe her in his Metamorphoses.
Would I be a fallen angel? The Ghost Girl muses as her vision begins to blur. Or would I be an ambitious fool who’s ego couldn’t handle the reality of her own limitations?
Distracting oneself from one’s impending death by mentally recounting famous Greek myths is a rather foolproof strategy, Ethel learns as her blood pools onto the street, collecting in little puddles in between the thin cracks of the road. She falls forward, cheek slamming against the unforgiving surface, brain rattling in her skull.
If nothing else hurt, if she weren’t more than halfway to having another Tally under her name, she’d whimper at the crunch in her cheekbone. She’d shake her head fiercely, surely giving herself even more of a concussion, just to force some clarity back behind her eyes.
The new ghost has calmed down, though, and Ethel doesn’t have the strength to fight any longer, so she lets go, succumbing to the cold and comforting embrace of death.
Far, far away, in an office in the sky, Mother Nyx scowls as she inks a sixth Tally under one of her student’s names. Ethel. Name scrawled in the kind of classy cursive only queens could have, six straight lines underneath.
And though she knows Ethel cannot hear, Mother Nyx utters a warning all the same.
“Four lives left, little one,” she drawls from her office in the stars, far too menacing for an immortal with the title of “mother”.
If Ethel spends more than a minute with a still heart, she’d never know.
Eyes flying open as she surges forward, gasping for breath. The mid-day sun burns her eyes and she squints, lips curled into a grimace. Eyes narrowed against the offensive brightness, she scans her surroundings.
“Uhm, hello,” the ghost says, voice soft with hesitation. “Are you okay?”
Normally, she’d lie. Normally, Ethel would paint on a smile, push herself up off the ground despite the residual ache where her wounds once were, and insist that she was perfectly okay.
Am I okay?
She laughs, the sound bitter and rough, at the pure absurdity of everything in her tumultuous life. “I will be,” she says by way of an answer. Ethel looks up at the ghost. “What’s your name?”
The ghost hesitates. “Grace. My name is Grace and I died a few hours ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Grace.”
Grace tilts her head to the side, the picture of confusion as long hair falls over her shoulders. “Isn’t that something you say to the family of the deceased?”
Ethel shrugs. “I guess, but it was your life too, right? You’re allowed to be sad for the life you lost.”
Something in her heart twinges at that, perhaps commenting on the irony that she was the one to say such a thing, that she deigned to speak about mourning the loss of opportunity, freedom, and normalcy.
But Grace has gone silent. “I suppose you’re right,” she whispers. “I don’t- I don’t remember much of the last hour, but I thought you had wings before.”
The Ghost Girl looks over her shoulder then, slightly disappointed by the lack of black feathers stretching far behind. “I did have wings. They’re gone now,” she responds shortly, pulling herself to her feet. “I also had a sword, but it’s gone now too.”
Grace is quiet once more. “Did I hurt you?” she breathes, shame bleeding through each word. “I’m sorry if I did.”
“You did. It wasn’t your fault though, Grace. You were a new ghost. New ghosts hurt people. I’ll be okay.” Ethel’s response is automatic, not an ounce of genuine feeling or emotion behind it.
“I’m still sorry.”
In her decades of Spirit-speaking, in her countless years of helping ghosts pass on to the Afterworld, never has a ghost apologized for their violence. Not sincerely, at least. Grace is the first ghost who’s apology manages to strike a chord in Ethel’s heart.
“If I may ask, Grace, how did you die? Who is grieving you now?”
Again, Grace goes quiet, far gentler than the majority of the other ghosts Ethel has ever dealt with.
“I died in a car accident. My best friend was in the driver’s seat, but I know she’s fine.”
“She lost you,” Ethel points out. “If you were best friends, well and truly, she’s not going to be ‘fine’ for a while- same with your family.”
A single, silvery tear slips down Grace’s cheek, falling from her chin. It fizzles out in the air before the translucent drop of melancholy can hit the road. “I had so much more time left. We were supposed to have a whole life by each other’s sides,” she sobs. “I ruined her dream.”
Ethel steps forward, opening her arms and pulling Grace’s ghostly body into an embrace. “She would never blame you. Never, never, never.” She frowns sympathetically as the young ghost trembles in her hold. “You’re a good friend, Grace, and I know she knows that too.”
“I wish I was better.”
If her heart breaks then and there, if she earns another Tally because of the pure impact those five words have, she wouldn’t be surprised.
But Ethel has to mask her shakiness once again to soothe a spirit, has to hold back the hurricane of thoughts and feelings raging in her heart and mind in order to do her “sacred” job of ferrying the dead.
She hugs Grace tighter.
“Don’t get attached to them, Ethel,” Mother Nyx loved to remind her. “You are simply there to help them pass over to the Afterworld, nothing else.”
You are not their therapist, Ethel wrote in that special black journal when she got home.
She disregards that for a moment, though, to comfort the shaking spirit.
“You are very kind,” Grace whispers, words breaking off at the end, voice too weak to handle the heaviness of heartbreak and loss. She hides her face in the spot where Ethel’s neck meets her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“If life had lined up differently,” Ethel starts slowly, “I think we could have been good friends.”
Grace exhales deeply, something sad and broken having been soothed inside her soul. Her eyes fall closed and her body begins to fade even more, figure shrinking with every passing heartbeat.
Every Ghost Girl knows what this is; a Passage.
Every Ghost Girl has grown accustomed to the sight of pain leaving a ghost’s face as they begin to pass over.
Not every Ghost Girl watches this moment of healing with envy. They don’t wonder how it would feel to be comforted in the same way, every internal wound eased with simple words, but Ethel does and it makes her feel like even more of a failure.
Ethel’s arms pass through the ghost’s body as she fades even more, fades so much she’s invisible.
Ignoring any pangs of melancholy in her traitorous heart, Ethel chants the Passage incantation, the ancient words that allow a ghost to move on to the Afterworld. Just another string of syllables she must remember and recite.
Goodbye Grace, the girl thinks quietly to herself. You would have been a great friend.
Ethel picks up her groceries and continues her walk home.
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2 - The Price of Wasting Your Life
Ethel knows the bookstore like the back of her hand, could easily navigate it with her eyes closed. She’d done it once, when an old friend had challenged her. She did it flawlessly. The friend had tried it too.
They left with a few scrapes and bruises and a heart warm with laughter.
Occupying the first two floors of an old brownstone, Hawthorne’s Book Shop was kept well-lit. Every wall was occupied by mahogany shelves stretching all the way to the ceiling. The rolling ladder is creaky, but it’s fun to use. Every time a new customer walks in, Ethel has to stop herself from pointing out the little intricacies of the store.
“Look up,” she once whispered to a little boy whose eyes were already wide with excitement the moment he’d walked in the door with his father. “Do you see the birds and flowers?” Ethel pointed up at the top of the bookcases, where richly-colored wood was carved into intricate nature scenes.
The little boy smiled widely when he saw. Ethel grinned at his joy, listening as he giddily told his father to look up too.
When the two came to check out a few minutes later, Ethel learned a little more about their life simply by listening as she gift-wrapped the novel the father had picked out. He was getting it for his wife. It was her birthday. The little boy just got a book because he loved to read.
If Mr. Hawthorne, who had been unboxing a new shipment of books a little ways away as Ethel worked the register, noticed the girl slip in an extra few bookmarks into the family’s bag, he didn’t say anything.
He loved his bookstore and every little detail of the cozy space, even the too-kind employee he had hired just a few months ago.
Ethel loves it too, loves the smell of books surrounding her as she shelves, dusts, and organizes. Loves the beanbags in every little alcove of the store, waiting for a reader far too eager to read a book they’d selected from the countless shelves to wait until they’d arrived back home.
Music plays softly through speakers set into the ceiling, every single song coming off of a playlist that Ethel carefully curated.
Phoebe Bridgers croons softly as Ethel sets up the little counter at the back of the store. She sings along, words just barely discernible as she plugs in the electric kettle. Garden Song is melancholy, that’s for sure, but it’s a peaceful accompaniment to arranging and organizing all the different tea bags in the clear container, she finds.
“They’re gluing roses on a flatbed. You should see it, I mean thousands.”
She pauses for a moment, listening for the deep male voice hidden beside Phoebe’s. He starts some of the lyrics milliseconds earlier, just enough to be heard.
Ethel returns to organizing the tea bags, mentally checking off each different kind.
Rooibos, Earl Grey, Chamomile, Lemon and Ginger, English Breakfast, and Green tea.
The sound of an opening door makes her look up, over her shoulder, towards the front of the store. Mr. Hawthorne walks in, eyes crinkling as he smiles. He sets two big boxes on the floor near the register, exhaling heavily when they hit the ground.
“Good morning, Ethel!” He says, cheery as ever, despite the early hour. “How are you?”
Ethel walks over, sitting down on the floor. “Morning, Mr. Hawthorne,” she says back, beginning to open the first box. “I’m doing alright,” the girl answers, trying not to think of the faint scars on her torso. “How about you?”
Mr. Hawthorne smiles even wider. “My family is coming to visit next week. Maisie and I are setting up the house so everything goes well.” He looks at Ethel, watches as she takes out books from the box and stacks them on the floor beside her. “Bringing that box up to the counter might be better,” he suggests, gray eyes sparkling with mirth.
Stifling a groan at the soreness in her body, Ethel stands, bringing the stack of books with her. Mr. Hawthorne hefts up the box she was unpacking, it lands on the wood surface with a heavy thud, cardboard bending under the weight of the many pages.
Distantly, Ethel hears the song switch to something by Lana Del Rey. It’s too early to know which song, she concludes with a note of disappointment.
Cardboard flaps are folded out of the way as Mr. Hawthorne takes out the rest of the books, assembling two of his own stacks.
“Lots of historical fiction today,” he remarks. “Those books have been getting really popular online, so I ordered a bunch. There’s more boxes in my car, these are just display books.” The final book is withdrawn and the man drops the empty box back on the floor. “I think the shipment of Young Adult novels is set to come in tomorrow.”
The keyboard clacks as Ethel types in the password to the bookstore’s computer, nodding her acknowledgement. The screen opens to the store’s inventory logs. She clicks her way to the right page, blindly picking the first book off of the nearest stack.
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue is heavy in her hands as she types it in.
“I think this book is my favorite,” she says suddenly, setting it to the side and picking up another one. “I just always liked the characters.”
Mr. Hawthorne looks over to see which story she was referring to before nodding thoughtfully. “Schwab has a beautiful writing style.” He pauses, contemplative. “If I recall, though, Addie LaRue is quite sad, right?”
Ethel hums. “It definitely is, but it’s sad in a way that makes you think.” She picks up the next book, types it in the system too. “I like Greek Mythology for the same reason.”
The man tilts his head, taking in this new little bit of information she has given up. “I didn’t know you like the old myths,” he finally says. “What’s your favorite story?”
“There are so many,” Ethel starts, “I can’t choose.”
She has a favorite, of course, but sharing it feels too personal.
“That makes sense,” the man concedes. He walks away from the counter, deeper into the bookstore. “By the way, Maisie is going to swing by later to drop off some stuff quickly. Do you want anything?”
Ethel shakes her head, touched by the Hawthorne couple’s kindness. “I’m good, thank you. I’m just going to finish putting everything into the system before putting everything away.”
“Bless you,” Mr. Hawthorne gushes. “I don’t know how this place would fare without you.”
It’s a compliment, Ethel knows that, but she can’t help the guilt that rings in her heart. One day, in a few years’ time, she will have to find a new job, a new place to live. Someday not far beyond the horizon, she will pack up and move, because eventually, it will be taken note of that she does not age. It will be noticed that time’s cruel hands will skip over her.
Mother Nyx will arrange a new apartment and Ethel will do the rest.
She moved to Riverview five years ago. It will likely be a year, at most, before she moves again.
Just once, I’d like to be able to truly have a home, someplace endless.
I think London would be nice. She thinks of Addie LaRue. Or maybe, New York City.
Ben Hawthorne knows nothing of Ghost Girls, though, so Ethel just smiles and feigns flustered pride. It works. She’s gotten good at hiding her misgivings. Practice makes perfect, after all.
Mr. Hawthorne turns and walks out of the bookstore. Through the windows, Ethel watches out of the corner of her eyes as he opens his car door.
Ethel continues adding books to the system.
---
The sun has passed its highest point in the sky when Ethel runs into another ghost.
The electric kettle is four cups of water emptier than it was at the start of the day and tea packet wrappers have found new homes in the trash can by the counter. The playlist has looped a few times. It’s been switched to something else, something that isn’t fresh enough in everyone’s mind to be annoying.
Ethel kneels down, fibers of her black leggings catching on the edges of the wood floorboards where her knee touches the floor. Holding back a few books from falling with one hand, she slides in five new books one by one. Already, the new titles look familiar, emerald, ruby, amethyst, sapphire, and onyx blending in with the others.
The girl rises to her feet, knees popping as she stands. Her head swims, the space behind her eyes throbbing as the blood rushes to her head. Groaning in annoyance as she rubs the bridge of her nose, Ethel turns around on her heel to go back to the storage room and grab more books to shelve. She stumbles backwards at the sight of silvery translucence, the floating figure of a ghost having startled her.
New ghosts would be violent, wandering ghosts are the quiet ones.
Under her breath, she whispers the concealment incantation.
To others, it will continue to appear as if she is adjusting the books on the shelves, dusting mahogany surfaces, anything normal that isn’t talking to a ghost.
“Hello?” she hisses, because sound is harder to hide, its fluctuations too unpredictable even for eldritch magic. “Can I help you?”
That was rather unfriendly, she remarks in the safety of her own headspace.
Fortunately, the ghost is not scared off by her less-than-warm greeting. It turns its head, revealing the face of an old man, wrinkled features twisted into the picture of melancholy. “You can see me?” His voice trembles.
If Ethel wasn’t used to the desperate hope of a wandering ghost being seen for the first time, if she was any younger, any more inexperienced, she might have cried. But Ethel is used to being a Ghost Girl, has grown into her dislike of the responsibility.
“Of course I can,” she replies. “What is your name?”
The ghost’s face falls, expression darkening with the added weight of more sadness. “I wish I had done more, had put myself out there more so people would know my name already,” he confesses, because death has a way of pulling the truth out of people.
“What do you mean?
He gestures to the books on the shelves, as if they hold the answers to everything.
“I wanted to be an author. I could have been a good one too,” he pauses, too lost in the memories to continue for a moment, “but I gave it all up to pursue a different career, one that’d make my family happy.” He smiles sadly, because such oxymoronic combinations have the power to exist in this cruel world.
Ethel knows what she needs to ask, knows what questions will make this ghost realize just enough about himself to be able to move on to the Afterworld, but it’s humiliatingly ironic.
Hesitation isn’t an approved option, so she asks anyway. “Why did you prioritize their happiness over yours?”
“Because I didn’t think I had another choice.”
I think I’m going to be writing down something new in my journal tonight.
Floundering for a proper response, Ethel hums, trying to sound contemplative instead of caught off guard. “Did you at least enjoy your life a little bit?” she tries, inwardly cringing at how pathetic it sounds.
“No.” Dejected, the ghost falls a bit, hovering closer to the floor. “There were some good moments with the people important to me, but I was miserable.”
Ethel is taken back to the memories of the people she considers important, the ones who have made her feel more seen than a microscope ever could. A childhood best friend who felt more like a sister, a group of friends in college that never failed to make her laugh, and another friend who she met later on. A partner whose love she’ll forever miss.
“I suppose people you love can always make you feel happier.”
The ghost sighs. “They may make you feel happier, but they can’t make you be happy. That’s something only you can control.” He looks at the books again, wistfulness clouding over his eyes. “I realized that a little too late.”
A dead man’s life can be ruined no further than it already has been, Ethel realizes as she prepares to ask a more personal question, steels herself against the horror of being vulnerable. Just ask.
“How do you know when you’re too late?” she chokes out. “To be happy, I mean.”
The answer is far simpler than the question, she finds.
“When you’re dead. Spend every second of your life trying to be happy,” the ghost urges. “I will simply have to exist knowing I didn’t do that.”
Ethel should be helping him pass on to the Afterworld, but she has a feeling he’d have a more peaceful time if she lets him heal with time.
“You’re okay with wandering alone? Okay with dealing with your struggles?”
He nods. “I think it’s the price I have to pay for wasting my life.”
There are more questions Ethel desperately wants to ask, more guidance she seeks, but being a Ghost Girl isn’t supposed to entail learning from the dead, that’s for historians, archaeologists, and mortals too concerned with the past.
She is neither a historian, an archaeologist, nor a mortal, so Ethel swallows down her questions and apologizes instead.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”
The ghost laughs, the sound’s bitter amusement grating against Ethel’s ears. “There’s nothing you could have done to help me, I’m afraid.”
“Well….” Ethel looks around the bookshop. Anxiety leaps into her throat at the sight of a woman walking past, but logic subdues it. She doesn’t see anything unusual. Calm down.
“Well,” she starts again, having regained the words, “You’ve already wasted your life, so try not to do the same with your death.” She smiles. “Explore. You’re limitless like this.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
3 - The Afterlife Isn't So Far Away
A mug of hot coffee waits on the small, wood table. Its strong scent is carried into the air with the steam. Ethel breathes it in with a grimace as she spreads the strawberry jam on the second slice of toast.
She hates coffee, finds it too strong, but it keeps her awake, so she drinks it anyway.
From her speaker sitting on the marble kitchen counter, plays a slow guitar song. The girl listens closer, picking out the lyrics and trying to identify what exactly she’s listening to. After a few seconds of stillness, she recognizes it as Last Words of Shooting Star by Mitski.
“And while my dreams made music in the night, carefully I was going to live.”
In a New York University hoodie that’s probably a size too big for her and a pair of athletic shorts she’s taken to wearing around her apartment, Ethel takes her plate of toast and sits down by her coffee, taking the warm mug in her hands.
On the wall across from her, hangs a photograph.
She’d taken it herself, a decade ago. She’d taken her phone from her pocket and snapped the photo of her lover dashing across an open meadow. Their figure in the distance was blurry, but it made looking at the memory a little less painful to look at.
Mitski’s voice fades away, replaced by something more masculine.
It startles Ethel out of her reminiscing.
She doesn’t bother trying to recognize the song this time, just takes a bite of toast.
The seconds continue to slip by and Ethel eats her breakfast. It’s a sad excuse for a meal, she’d admit, but the strawberry jam is just sweet enough to counteract the awful bitterness of her coffee. Even with the added milk and sugar, it’s horrendous, but collapsing in the middle of the day doesn’t sound very appealing.
Ethel takes a sip from the mug, grimacing. Her next bite of toast acts like a chaser.
This feels awfully backwards, she laughs to herself before repeating the cycle yet again. Sip of coffee, bite of toast. Sip of coffee, bite of toast. Sip of coffee, bite of toast, over and over again until she’s finished breakfast.
Only when the song changes again does she snap out of her daze. Ethel looks up at the clock on the wall, the silver numbers, hands, and outside frame set against a white background.
To the tune of If I’m Being Honest by Dodie, she cleans up.
Ethel hums along as she rinses her plate off in the sink, watching crumbs and tiny splotches of strawberry jam disappear under the faucet’s stream of water. She sets it down in the sink, moving slowly because it’s too early for the loud sound of dishes clinking together.
The white mug she merely rinses, just enough to get the coffee out completely before walking over to her electric kettle. Socks against the gray, hardwood floor make steps soundless as boiling water is poured into a now-clean cup.
The girl doesn’t bother reading the label of her tea bag, just drops it in.
With a mug full of a far less foul drink, Ethel makes her way to her living room, sitting down carefully so as to not spill her tea.
Dodie’s voice fills the quiet space.
“How did I get here? It’s all so quick and I feel sick.”
The corners of her lips quirk downwards with displeasure. Ethel reaches into the pocket of her hoodie and pulls out her phone, quickly unlocking it and switching to her music app to change the song to something less relatable.
Before she gets to truly enjoy a second of peace, though, someone rings her doorbell.
Frown deepening, Ethel sets her steeping tea down on her living room table and walks to her front door. Because she’s heard enough horror stories, she takes a moment to peer through the peephole in the solid wood.
An exasperated groan falls from her lips at the sight of her visitor before she can stop it.
Ethel opens the door. “What on Earth could you possibly want?” she asks, every word dripping with obvious impatience.
Mother Nyx smiles. “That’s no way to welcome someone into your home, is it?” The woman’s dark eyes gleam, pools of obsidian set against shining pearl. Everything about her is flawless, from the angular cut of her sharp cheekbones to the crisp lines of her well-tailored black suit.
Mastering the art of intimidation requires you to pay attention to detail, Ethel remembers being told by the very being before her, remembers writing it in her journal when she got home.
Sighing, she steps aside, opening the door wider. “Come inside, I can make you a mug of tea, if you’d like.”
“That’d be lovely, Ethel. Thank you,” is the saccharine response.
The two women enter the apartment. Mother Nyx sits on a stool at the kitchen island, Ethel just walks to the counter to prepare the tea she offered.
Frustration boiling hotter than the water in her kettle, Ethel reaches up and grabs another white mug. She fills it silently, and for a fleeting moment, she wonders what would happen if she simply walked out of her apartment, if she spent the rest of the day in the park.
Maybe Mr. Hawthorne would let me stay in the bookshop even though it’s a Monday.
“You know,” Mother Nyx starts, a teasing lilt to her voice, “you don’t have to make that for me if you don’t want to.”
It takes an alarming amount of self control to keep from hurling the mug at the woman’s face. Ethel clenches her teeth and grips its handle tighter, watching as her knuckles turn white. “What kind of tea would you like?” she manages to ask without snapping.
“Do you have black tea, by any chance?”
Ethel doesn’t dignify the question with an answer as she plucks the tea from its container. Refusing to make eye contact, she rips the packet open - perhaps a tad more violently than necessary, she concedes - and lets the tea bag fall into the hot water.
It feels like a resignation of something when she slides the mug across the island.
The girl opens her mouth to speak, to attempt small talk, but she’s cut off.
“Let’s not bother with the pleasantries, my dear, we have important matters to talk about and I am a very busy woman.”
Is it possible to break your teeth from clenching them together too hard?
“What important matters are you talking about?”
Mother Nyx looks down at her tea for a brief moment, looks back up again to finally meet Ethel’s eyes. “You’ve been awfully careless recently.” She blows on the tea, pauses for a moment to watch how the steam dissipates. “There are six Tallies under your name- six. That means you have only four lives left.”
Ethel looks around the counter, searching for something to occupy her hands. The bottles of soap next to the faucet are far too clunky and the not-quite-dirty-but-not-totally-clean fork isn’t good enough either. She settles for a black pen, reaching out to grab it.
Click. Click. Click.
“Ethel-”
“What?”
And Ethel draws away, backs up the slightest bit because Mother Nyx hates being disrespected. She tries again. “What?”
It’s not much better.
“Ethel.” Mother Nyx’s eyes blaze with anger.
Ethel wonders if their darkness inspired her name.
“You are being entirely careless. In a fight with a new ghost last week, you lost a life. It should not have been a fight where that happened.” The woman leans forward, making up for the little bit of separation that Ethel created. “So tell me, child, what happened?”
The truth is, nothing happened. There were no true moments of hesitation; Ethel didn’t stop to contemplate everything she was doing, surprisingly.
“Nothing. Gr- the ghost was simply too strong. What more do you want to hear?”
Mother Nyx’s eyes narrow at Ethel’s slip up. “Did you learn the ghost’s name?”
“No.”
She wishes lying was easier.
“Why did you learn the ghost’s name?” Mother Nyx asks, because she’s always been unnervingly good at sniffing out her children’s lies. “You know you’re only supposed to help them pass over.”
Click. Click. Click.
Ethel wonders if her pen will snap.
“A Passage can only occur if a ghost feels at peace enough to move on. I learned Grace’s name because I thought it’d make her feel more seen!” The girl takes a steadying breath. “Wouldn’t you want that little bit of connection before you moved on to the Afterworld?!”
Mother Nyx is terrifying in her resolute calmness. “Darling,” she starts to placate, sticky sweetness in her tone, “I am an immortal, I don’t think about my death.”
I think about mine, because it’s going to happen eventually.
“I have four lives left.”
“Yes, child, and it’s a problem.”
“What happens when I have none left?”
For the first time since she appeared at the door, Mother Nyx is caught off guard. “Excuse me?”
“What happens when a Ghost Girl dies?” she tries again. “Where do we all come from?” Ethel sighs, forcing her shoulders back down. “The least you could do is answer a few questions.”
Mother Nyx blinks. She takes another sip of her tea. “What would you like to know first?”
I didn’t think it would be that easy.
Ethel’s voice is shaky, but she is sure. “The beginning; I want to do this right.”
“Alright.” Mother Nyx shifts, getting more comfortable on her stool. “You are a Ghost Girl and Ghost Girls are the daughters of the stars and the sky, made in the image of mortals.” Her gaze is piercing, impossible to look away from. “I was born alongside the dawn of humankind. If Mother Nature was real, I'd be hers. Mother Nature and Daughter Death.”
Mother Nature, Daughter Death.
Annoyance boils hotter. “That doesn’t answer anything.” Ethel draws the point of the pen across the soft skin of her other palm, watches with mild fascination as it makes its mark. “How did I come to exist?”
The woman sitting at the counter massages her temple with one hand, annoyance evident. “You and your sisters were born from supernovas, black holes, sunrises, and shooting stars- celestial phenomenons.” She blows on her mug of tea before taking another small sip. “Even I don’t know exactly. This sort of ancient magic is never straightforward.”
Ethel lets herself take in this information as she walks back into her living room, just to pick up her abandoned mug of tea, leaving the black pen behind on the kitchen counter. Her drink has cooled a lot since her last sip, she discovers with a slight frown, but the rich flavors are pleasant still, so she takes another drink.
The girl walks slowly on her way back, perhaps too wary of spilling anything on her gray floors. Her free hand finds a home in the big front pocket of her hoodie and she sits down at the island, only a single barstool in between her and Mother Nyx.
“What happens when a Ghost Girl is on her final life?” Ethel asks, breaking the tense lapse in silence. Softly-playing music was the only thing keeping them from total silence. “What happens after the final death?”
Mother Nyx’s eyes narrow, revealing more of the bronze makeup dusted on her eyelids. “The final life is the same as all the others. You don’t age, don’t wither away.”
“And the final death?” Ethel keeps pushing, staring intently at the woman before her.
“You die as any mortal would. There is nothing special about it.”
“Nothing special.” I like the sound of that.
Ethel finds herself daydreaming of that final death, of what’d it feel like to simply die instead of spending a few minutes asleep. Sure, the temporary death of a Ghost Girl isn’t actually a short nap, but it might as well have been.
Mortality teases her, darts just within her reach before scurrying back with an expression of devilish glee. To capture it would require trapping it, an arduous task.
“Can Ghost Girls only die violently?”
Mother Nyx frowns, collected mask falling away to reveal a countenance clouded with suspicion. “Why are you asking all of these questions, Ethel?” she asks slowly, warily, watching the girl’s expression for flashes of emotion.
But Ethel is too entranced by her dream of truly existing temporarily to hear the question. “Is there any way to become mortal- to be normal?”
The notion of normalcy, curious musings of mortality tip Mother Nyx over the edge. Her tranquil facade breaks, falling from her face like water sliding off of smooth stones. It’s awfully unsettling, toeing the line between scary and terrifying.
“Ethel.”
The Ghost Girl is startled from her daydreaming, color draining from her face as her eyes go wide.
When Mother Nyx speaks again, her voice is deeper, almost demonic. She sounds every bit like Mother Nature’s child, Daughter Death.
“What is it you want?” she asks, because she knows Ethel well enough to understand that she wouldn’t just ask the questions she had been without a purpose.
“I-” Ethel begins, fingers trembling against the hot surface of her white mug.
“Answer the question!”
Daughter Death, aided by pure terror, is far too good at drawing out confessions from even the most tight-lipped of people. She smiles, exposing gleaming teeth, revealing canines a bit too sharp to appear human. The grin is not genuine.
“Answer the question honestly, my child.” The words are too sweet, dripping with honey- the artificial kind that makes you feel gross.
And gross she feels. The truth is disgusting, but she shares it all the same.
“I don’t want to be immortal. I want to have a home, friends I don’t have to abandon after a few years, maybe a pet. I want to be a mortal.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
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Previous chapter found here. I decided to add chapter numbers. Don't know why I didn't from the beginning, but now it's easier to keep track of.
Heros & Villains
chapter: 5
word count: 1,199
~-~-~
Jackie found himself waking up to the sound of bird chatter. He blinked sleepily as he looked up at the ceiling. As he laid there, slowly waking up, he remembered waking in the middle of the night. He hadn't been awake for long but he recalled the restlessness he had felt for that short while. Honestly, he wasn't surprised. He didn't know when the last time he had slept for as long as he had the day before. Jackie lays there for a moment longer before he shifts and moves to get up. His body aches at the movement and he grimaces as he gets to his feet.
Opening the door that used to go to the closet, Jackie stepped into the bathroom. This time he took Magnificent's suggestion and left the door open. Once finished, he listened, straining to hopefully hear something. Nothing. He wondered, briefly, if the other man had left. Or maybe still asleep. Then just as he was about to head back to the bedroom, he heard a faint high pitched whistle. He furrowed his brows, wondering what that was; then realized it was a kettle. So. Magnificent was a tea drinker. Jackie left the bathroom and closed the door before settling back in bed.
He adamantly refused to fall back asleep. Instead he tried to focus his thoughts and attention on other things. First it was propping himself up. Then it was wondering when or if Magnificent was going to bring him breakfast. Then he took stock of everything that was in the room. There was the bed; a cushy chair in the opposite corner; a three shelf display, except it was missing the bottom part exposing a vent; there was a small decorative lamp on the shelf plugged into the wall between the chair and shelf; and a couple posters on the wall. Jackie glanced up. Ceiling fan and light combo. He paused, then looked back to one of the posters. Then it clicked. That was a movie poster. A supernatural horror about a house possessed with a water spirit or demon that tormented the man that bought it. Jackie couldn't quite remember all the details but it was better than he had expected it to be. Since, apparently, it was loosely based off of someone's not-so-exciting true events.
Jackie sends a look to the door. Still no sign of him. He wondered what time it was. With another quick sweep of the room showed no clock. And with his cellphone missing he couldn't check the time that way either. He turned his attention to listening. Any noises he could pick up; from outside or from within the house. It was mostly the birds outside, though they were a bit more distant. A couple times he thought he heard noises from in the house. Then, finally, the door opened.
Magnificent pushed the door open with his shoulder. He was carrying the tray again. Jackie couldn't tell what exactly it was from his angle but he did notice the water bottle. And he smelled eggs. Magnificent paused for a second before walking over. “Good morning.”
“Morning...” Jackie eyed the tray.
“Breakfast.” Magnificent stated as he passed the tray over. Jackie hid his eagerness as he accepted the meal. Scrambled eggs with toast. But what did he add into the eggs? He squinted at a piece of egg as he poked it with his fork. “It's ham.”
Ham? He stabbed a small piece on his fork and ate it. With a small shrug he remarked, “It'll do.” Then quickly looked up at Magnificent to see the man stare at him with a raise brow. “I-I mean... I, uh...” Jackie stumbled over his words trying to correct his bordering-on-rude statement. He looked down at his plate. “... Thank you.” Well, he said it. But it didn't feel like enough. “Thank you.” He tried again. “For the meals.” This time when he looked up at Magnificent the smile from the man caught him off guard.
“You're supposed to be healing from your injury's. Can't really do that if I starve you.” Jackie heard amusement in the mans voice.
“Guess not.” They just looked at each other a moment longer before Jackie turned his attention back down at his meal. Though instead of eating more he reached for the water bottle. Unfortunately, when he tried to open it, he just felt pain in his right arm.
Magnificent took a step closer. As he held out a hand, Jackie instinctively brought up his guard. If Magnificent noticed he didn't react; he just asked, “Need a hand?”
It took some effort to lower his guard as he handed the bottle over. The man simply opened the bottle and handed it back before taking a couple steps backward. Paused. Then turned and left the room closing the door behind him.
Maybe he did notice. Jackie let out a sigh. He hadn't meant to act defensively. But when he stepped into his personal space, while his arm was hurting, with no noticeable reason... His subconscious decided to remind him that the two of them weren't allies.
Jackie forced his attention towards his breakfast. He took a large drink from the bottle before twisting the cap back on and started to eat.
The tray rested next to him on the bed as Jackie nibbled on the last bit of the toast. He contemplated what he could do when he finished eating. Other than sleep again. Though he supposed that if that was what his body wanted then he'd have to give in; but he's had enough of sleeping the day away.
After taking a drink from the water bottle, Jackie looked over the room again hoping he missed something. Anything he could use as entertainment. There wasn't anything else. Either Magnificent was a boring person and didn't own anything of amusement or he removed everything from the room that Jackie could use. Unless the little shelf was just for decoration and he didn't keep anything in the bedroom. Jackie let out a sigh and tilted his head back against the bedframe. He stared up at the spot where the wall met the ceiling above the closet door.
Before long, Jackie shifted his legs over the side of the bed and made his way up and to the bathroom. Now that he had a consist source of water he suspected he'd be up more often. When he finished in the bathroom, Jackie hesitated, wondering if he should call out to the other man. Insist that he be given something to pass the time. He ended up deciding against it. Then, just as he was about to leave the bathroom he faintly heard a door being opened. Jackie paused and, leaning against the bathroom counter, listened for some more noise. He thought he heard Magnificent talking but it was too quiet to discern what he said or who he was talking to since he didn't hear a response.
Jackie shivered, then grimaced. Leaving the bathroom he made his way back to the bed quietly cursing at not being given a shirt to wear.
~-~-~
The poster is a tiny easter egg. I wonder if anyone will know what the poster is...
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Case 01-Aftermath(1/?)
Deep breaths.
“Get your shit together Miller” she berates herself. “You can't act weak"
She knocks on the door.
“Miller!” Saramsrein greets her in relief.
“Good night Saram" she forces a smile. “Is Safir still awake? I would like to talk to him”
Saramsrein doesn't say anything. Neither does Safir when he opens the door and sees her sitting there, on the living room, hands clasped together on her lap, her smile not reaching her eyes.
They could tell she was bringing bad news.
“Your assailant was found dead" she disclosed. “An autopsy made on the corpse points to prolonged abuse of illicit substances as the cause. No evidence of anyone else being at the site was found so by all accounts the death looks self inflicted"
“So he is unrelated to Morrigan?”
“No. He totally is. My belief is that Morrigan used him because he was at death's door. By using his life force he could keep this man alive long enough to do his dirty job and then let him die after he's finished. He covered his involvement really well"
“… It's frightening how prepared this guy is.” Safir frowns. “If it wasn't for you and Saram I would have been dead by now"
“I wish I could claim we foiled his plans but… We didn't"
“What?”
If he died he would have become a wandering spirit tormented by his traumatic death, which would require her to go after his killer so his soul could rest in peace.
If he lived then his assailant would still represent a danger in potential as he was on the loose so she would still need to go after him to secure his safety.
No matter the outcome it was inevitable that her hand would forced to act on his behalf.
“That was his goal? To use me as a bait?” Safir gritted his teeth. “But why? What would he gain with that?”
“To buy him time. He wanted to make sure we wouldn't interfere in his plans of gathering evidence to expose the robber's foul deeds"
“But if all he wanted was to arrest him then why go through all this trouble? It doesn't make sense”
“When I said “expose his foul deeds" I didn't mean the robbery. Morrigan wanted everything. Past or present, he wanted to expose every ugly truth and watch him succumb under the destruction it would cause in its wake"
“…He didn't strike me as the “justice" type"
“And he isn't. Morrigan is a man of “freedom". He doesn't like anything that denies who he is nor anything that seeks to tie him down. He feels a particular contempt towards any display of power he regards as “pretentious" and thus seek to undermine and ridicule it in any way he can"
“Morrigan knew that if he let the culprit go he would think money gave him power to be above him.” Safir deduces.
“That's the gist of it, yes"
Safir clenches his fists in frustration.
When he finally learned to control his powers he felt immensely proud of himself. For the first time in his life he believed he could do better and become a reliable person that could make the difference.
But he was naïve.
Life wasn't that easy. Working hard didn't mean that he would receive a pat in the back and be rewarded by his efforts, reality could be rather unjust and unreasonable like that.
“Is this how things end? Him being victorious and suffering no consequences of his acts despite how heinous they were?”
“Not quite so"
Safir looks at her in surprise and she smiles back at him. A more natural and genuine smile this time.
“Morrigan no longer acts incognito thanks to you exposing him Safir. He's now under my watch.” She smirks. “He might have won this battle but not this war. He had to reveal a lot of “tricks" this time and if he keeps going at this pace he will soon run out of options. It will then just become a question of time until he hits the end of the road"
She pats his head.
“You did well Safir" She smiles proudly at him. “I regret not being able to avoid the loss of your home but… Know that I will do everything in my power to help you find a new place to live. It's a promise I intend to keep this time"
“About that Miller” Saramsrein interjects. “I… Invited Safir to live here. With me"
“You did?”
“Yes"
“And what was your answer Safir?”
Safir and Saramsrein share a complicit look and smile at her.
“I accepted his offer" he confirms. “I have been thinking of this place as a home for a while so I saw no reason to refuse it. At least for now"
“I'm happy for you Safir. Also congratulations on your initiative Saram, I'm also very proud of you”
“I-It's nothing, I… Should be the one thanking you. It's thanks to you that I have something to call “mine" to share with others"
“You matured Saram" she chuckles. “I guess I had nothing to worry after all"
“Miller?”
“It's nothing" she shakes her head. “I guess that the only thing left to do is to acquire everything that you lost on the fire right?”
“Ah! It's fine, there's no need to do that Miller, you don't have to feel responsible for what happened!”
“Saram told me that you bought new clothes because you wanted them to be something of your choice, to match the new person you wanted to be… Is that true?”
“Hum? Yes?” Safir confirms, eyebrows furrowing in confusion by the sudden change of topic.
“I am not offering you help purely out of a sense of obligation Safir. I am doing this because I want to support you and your conviction”
Sometimes doing your best wasn't enough. Even when you put all the care and zeal in the world in building something it could still easily crumble away into nothing. All your work and progress, undone in an instant.
Many times she felt tempted to give up. To let desolation wash her away but… She still persevered. All thanks to the support of everyone around her. It gave her strength to keep going on and it sustained her heart so despair won't be allowed to break it.
“Life can be unfair at the times. Even when we are on the right path things can happen to discourage us" her voice goes soft. “But when you have the support of others it helps to balances everything out. When they have your back you know they will be there to catch you when you fall"
“The support of others…”
‘You progressed a lot Saram, it would be a shame if you lost that'
Didn't he say something similar to Saramsrein before?
He did it because he believed in him. Because he knew, better than anyone, how much courage and effort it took to take a step forward so he wanted his hard work to be recognized. He wanted to protect and support that resolve.
“I respect your strength Safir so I won't treat you with any pity. All I ask is to be allowed to help you recover the time lost so you wouldn't have to trouble yourself with setbacks. So that the only thing you need to concern yourself with is how to look forward"
“… In that case I will accept your help" he smiles. “Thank you Miller. For everything”
“Call me when you decide to shop for the new things."
“I will. But perhaps not immediately”
“Ah yes, of course, a lot of things happened after all so it's better if you probably need time to process everything"
“No. That's not it” Safir shook his head. “You need to rest too Miller. I can tell this case probably took a toll on you too so please, look after yourself as well and don't worry, I will be fine"
“…You really became strong Safir" she chuckles. “ Thank you. That's reassuring to hear"
“I'm glad I can finally pay back a bit of the kindness you always show me.” Safir manages a grin. “Hey… The words you told me I say back to you too. You are really loved by the people around you so don't feel like you have to hold back. If you are in need of any support we will gladly give it to you”
=-=-=-=
“I'm so exhausted" Miller rests her head on the wheel of her car.
Maybe she should take Safir's advice after all.
“But before that…” Her hand twitches as she touches the cellphone in her pocket.
She needed to talk with Hunter.
“He's probably baffled with the way I acted. I wonder if he's disappointed"
‘Now that he's dead it doesn't matter anymore’
‘…I already wasted too much time with him, more than I could afford in fact'
It made her shudder. To think she could speak of someone's death like that, to treat a loss of human life with such coldness and disregard… She was no better than Morrigan.
“Maybe he wouldn't even want to with me. It was kind awkward after that” she sighed as she opened the messages up. “Huh?”
“Miller, would it be ok to meet you to talk? Only if you are available of course"
She blinked in surprise.
How… Unexpected.
She tapped a message back.
“Of course, where would you like to meet?”
“Your home if it's not too much of a bother" was the instant reply.
“I don't mind. Feel free to come"
“Thank you. Then I will be on my way"
Well, she better get home ASAP.
Maybe if she's fast enough she can take a bath before he arrives.
DingDong~
“Coming!” she hastily drapes a towel on her head, running at quick steps to answer the door.
“Goodnight Mi- Sorry, did I interrupt your bath?”
“It's ok, I just finished it" she shakes her head. “I only need to dry my hair and I am good to go"
“May I?”
“Huh? What?”
“Dry your hair for you" Hunter offers.
“Ah! Yes! I would love that" she perks up at the invitation. “Just give me a second, I need to find my hairdryer first"
Hunter’s touch is soothing.
He’s gentle with his ministrations- Slowly and carefully toweling her hair and always making sure to properly remove the dampness from the roots. He works through them with the same diligence and attention as everything he does in his life.
Drowsiness started to settle in, little by little, as he proceeds to massage her head, alternating between rubbing her scalp in circles, applying the right amount of pressure here and there and uncovering the towel just enough so he can comb through her hair by running his nails softly. She could feel her body turning into a puddle, the stress of the last days slowly melting away under his deftly hands.
“Ops!” She squeaks as her head launches backwards. “Sorry Hunter, I dozed for a second here"
“You must be really tired"
“I guess so" she laughs it off. “Although I would say it's more because your touch is soothing. It feels nice"
“Can you endure the sleep monster for a bit while I use the hairdryer?” he jokes, amused. “I don't want to accidentally yank your hair"
“I will do my best" she chuckles back. “Wow! You are pretty good at this, where you learned how to treat long hair?”
“You mean brushing it in sections and holding the base so it doesn't pull the roots? Isn't that common sense?”
“Hum… I wonder about that"
“Miller don't tell me that all this time you brushed it in one go"
“…”
“Miller.”
“I was joking, I know how to do it. Although it can't be helped when I am busy"
“Wear shorter hair then"
“But I like it at this length" she pouted.
“You can be surprisingly stubborn for the strangest things" Hunter shakes his head. “But I guess… It does look good on you. It makes you look rather dashing when it flows through the wind in the thick of a fight"
His voice sounded kind.
She wondered what kind of expression he was making at this moment.
“Done"
“Thank you Hunter. I will put these things away real quick and then we can talk"
“Ok”
“By the way why did you ask to talk here instead of doing a facecam this time?”
“Because I thought it might be better to talk with you personally" he hesitates “It's… About the way I acted around you earlier"
Oh, so he wanted to talk about “that" after all.
She steeled herself.
“Hunter, about tha-”
“I'm sorry"
“Huh?”
“I didn't mean to come off as if I was judging you" he apologizes “In truth I was… Worried about you"
Her eyes widen in surprise.
“I didn't know what to do. You sounded like you were in pain but I didn't know how to help. I wasn’t sure if I could ask about it either so I was at loss about what to do"
“I'm such an idiot"
“…Miller?”
There was no reason for her to worry.
The days of doubt were long behind them.
“It's ok Hunter, I meant to tell you everything"
‘You are really loved by the people around you so don't feel like you have to hold back. If you are in need of any support we will gladly give it to you’
Safir was right, she should learn to rely more on others too.
“…So that was why you said that" Hunter furrowed his eyebrows. “I saw my share of corrupt cops but this guy is still something else, to try to kill someone as a distraction… Disgusting"
“Yes. It's frustrating to admit but it was a trap I couldn't avoid. I played right into Morrigan's hands"
“But how did he find out? There's no one as careful as you and Andrews"
“That was… My fault" she clenched her fists. “When I instructed Andrews to do his investigation I failed to account for something as simple as paying attention to the order of the files. Morrigan noticed something was off with the time the records were checked in and caught on what we were planning"
That’s right. Her mistake almost cost Safir's life. Andrews also got humiliated as a result of her poor command.
She still remembers Andrews' expression. Even through she had desperately tried to shift the blame away from him it didn't work. She could see how Morrigan's words cut him deeply, reopening old wounds and bringing back a guilty he shouldn't feel responsible to carry.
It's so frustrating. Why she kept failing the people dear to her? Why she can't protect anyone? Why…
“Punishment only teaches you to fear mistakes, not to overcome then. You were the one who taught me that" he hugs her tighter. “I don't want you to be bond by those fears"
“I… Am trying my best but it's still not enough" she buries her face in his neck. “And with each mistake my confidence wanes. My heart… It keeps wavering"
“I wonder if it's really like that"
“Hunter?”
“I don't know this kid personally but I have a feeling that he doesn't blame you for what happened.” He hums, resting his chin on her shoulder. “No one does. Regardless of the outcome we believe without a doubt that you saved us.”
“How? How could anyone still trust me after that?”
“Sometimes what we need the most is for someone to be there for us. A hand that won't let go no matter what, even if it has to challenge the most unlikely odds. We know we can count on you to do that” Hunter pulls back briefly to smile at her. “Besides, if we are talking about terrible decisions then this Morrigan guy did the biggest mistake of everyone involved”
“Huh? What mistake?”
“Picking a fight with you of course"
“What are you saying…” She laughs, shaking her head “...Thank you Hunter, I really appreciate it"
“Anytime" He squeezes her hand. “If you need anything you can tell me Miller"
“Actually…”
“Yes?”
“Can we stay like this a bit longer?” she rests her head in his chest, close to his heart, soaking in the warmth and comfort of the arms enveloping her. “It calms me down"
“Of course” Hunter nods, adjusting their position to make it more comfortable for her. “As long as you need Miller"
“Thank you Hunter" she whispers as she lets herself sunks in his embrace, feeling her tension melt away as Hunter gently strokes her head.
'I'm so sleepy... I guess i'm more tired than I thought'
She didn't know for how long they stayed like that nor she cared to find out.
The only thing in her mind and her last conscious thought, before she feel under dream's spell was...
How she wished for this moment to never end.
#my useless invincible boss#crowa miller(useless boss)#wolf hunter(useless boss)#saramsrein(useless boss)#safir(useless boss)
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Often, when we think of a person being demonized, we picture someone rolling on the ground or barking like a dog, but there are much more insidious manifestations of demonic influence in a person’s life. Diminished spiritual vision, an inability to hear the voice of God, continual cycles of sin and defeat, and a persistent feeling of torment are all signs that a person is under the influence of a familiar spirit or spirits. The key to experiencing freedom is to release the offense, no matter how justified it seems. You must make the conscious decision that you will no longer live under the bondage of the enemy.
We need to understand how unforgiveness can cause a legal claim to come against us in the spiritual realm. The Bible gives a very profound depiction of this. In the gospel of Matthew, chapter 18, Jesus teaches His disciples about the power and necessity of forgiveness:
Then came Peter to Him, and said, Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times?
Jesus says to him, I say not to you, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven. Therefore is the kingdom of heaven likened to a certain king, which would take account of his servants. And when he had begun to reckon, one was brought to him, which owed him ten thousand talents. But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife, and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made. The servant therefore fell down, and worshiped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay you all.
Then the lord of that servant was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt. But the same servant went out, and found one of his fellow servants, which owed him a hundred pence: and he laid hands on him, and took him by the throat, saying, Pay me that you owe. And his fellow servant fell down at his feet, and besought him, saying, Have patience with me, and I will pay you all. And he would not: but went and cast him into prison, till he should pay the debt. So when his fellow servants saw what was done, they were very sorry, and came and told to their lord all that was done. Then his lord, after that he had called him, said to him, O you wicked servant, I forgave you all that debt, because you desired me: should not you also have had compassion on your fellowservant, even as I had pity on you? And his lord was angry, and delivered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due to him. So likewise shall My heavenly Father do also to you, if you from your hearts forgive not every one his brother their trespasses.
(Matthew 18:21–35)Through this illustration, we see that, in the kingdom of God, a very powerful spiritual law called “the law of reciprocity” is in operation.
The servant was forgiven a debt he was incapable of paying. Even if he worked for the remainder of his life, he would not be able to accumulate enough money to pay what he owed. In fact, his children probably would have inherited the debt after he died. Notice that the lord commanded that the man, his wife, and his children were to be sold into slavery. The man literally begged his master to have patience and grant an extension so he would be able to repay all the debt. Instead of extending the repayment schedule of the loan, the lord had compassion on this servant and forgave the debt in its entirety. The man was released from the debt completely, with no further obligation to repay. Therefore, the penalty of this debt was no longer enforceable. This is a very important spiritual principle.☕️Kynan Bridges
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