#ITS CAUSE THIS BITCH HAS BEEN COLLECTING THEM IN HOPES THAT THIS CRACK ASS MOMENT WOULD COME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stellar-alley · 4 years

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Of Scales and Sea Glass

•Chapter 1•

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(Summary: Eddie deals with the anniversary of his parent's death. After an intense tropical storm, he discovers something has washed up in his pool.)

Also shout out to @ambitiousskychild on tumblr for being my beta!

It’s just water. You’ll be fine God, why do you always worry so damn much?

“FUCK” Eddie groaned as he raked his hand through his hair. “Fuck…” He repeated, letting his voice trail off this time.

It’s been a year, you should be over this by now .

Sure it might’ve been a year, but that didn’t mean Eddie Kaspbrak was any less terrified of the ocean. Its endless blue and unexplored depths made Eddie want to be anywhere else. It didn’t help that the ocean was literally in Eddie’s backyard. All that he needed to know was that exactly one year ago today, that blue, those depths, took his parent’s lives, and that was enough to scare the boy shitless. Only now, on the anniversary of Sonia and Frank Kaspbrak’s death, did he finally decide to do something about it.

Eddie stood about 50 feet away from his back porch, his feet in the sand and a towel wrapped over his shoulders. He watched the waves fall and crash over the sand. Tonight the weathermen were calling for a killer storm, which seemed oddly appropriate in the boy’s head. It was almost like his mother was giving him a sign. It was like her way of saying “Eddie-bear, go back inside! The world is dangerous, so stay in your room!” because that’s what she did.

For most of Eddie’s life, he was fed placebos, convinced he had asthma, and practically forced to be straight. It was all his mother’s doings. Ever since her death Eddie has come to terms with all of his fake illnesses, he’s even been able to come out to his friends! Of course, they all accepted him and helped him whenever he needed it. He was really grateful for the losers he called his friends.

Lighting struck in the distance, it sent a flash of light over Eddie’s face that caused him to shrink into his towel. The dark clouds that loomed overhead only caused Eddie’s heart to beat harder inside his ribcage.

Thunder cackled soon after. Eddie’s eyes teared up as he looked up and into the waves, “I-I’m sorry,” He choked, barely able to get the words out.

Eddie shuffled back into his oceanside house before the rain started, which was good cause when it rained, it poured. The first thing he did when he got inside was close all of the blinds, unable to look out into his backyard without his stomach-turning, the guilt was practically eating away at him. The last thing he saw as he closed the blinds were his pool, the water reflected the dark clouds that loomed overhead, creating a haunting atmosphere.

The realization caused Eddie to sigh, “That’s gonna be a pain in my ass to clean.” Storms like these always brought the most random crap up from the bottom of the ocean, somehow all of it always ended up in Eddie’s pool. He didn’t even want the pool, he lived so close to the ocean, it was kinda useless. Well, aside from the days when it was too cold to swim in the ocean , that’s when he’d usually heat the pool up and swim in there instead. That was when he still swam. Now he hasn’t used that thing in well over a year.

After Sonia and Frank passed, The Kaspbrak’s residence was passed down to their only child, Eddie. That house included an underground pool, a house way too big for one person, and an almost private beach that only he and his next door neighbours had access to. (His neighbours on the left never used it though. They were an elderly couple. Sometimes he’d find them sitting outside on the warm days, but they weren’t the outdoor type. His neighbours on the right had their yard fenced off). Eddie never used the pool but kept it clean for the days when his friends came over. They'd go swimming while he read in the shade.

That night Eddie slept with his ear buds in, music on loud and the covers pulled over his head. He hated how scared he was of the water. He missed the way the waves made him feel. It was something he's never felt before, when he swam he was safe, and free. He's tried to overcome it, but nothing has worked. He'd need a miracle to convince him to get back into the water.

Eddie woke up the next morning to the early morning sunlight streaming in through the cracks of his blinds. He mentally cursed out God for creating the sun before he turned over and shoved his face deeper into his pillow. After about 20 more minutes of internal complaining, Eddie finally dragged himself out of bed. His head was waterlogged, hazed by sleep. So when he opened the blinds to his back doors all he saw was a mass of sea shit that now crowded his pool. Instead of focusing on exactly what had washed up onto his property, he simply rolled his eyes and went to go back to breakfast.

Eddie checked his phone, hoping it’d wake his mind up a little but he sighed as he realized he didn’t have any wifi. His realization brought a thought to the forefront of his mind. “Oh no…. No, no, no,” Eddie mumbled as he padded over towards the nearest light switch. “Fuck,” He leaned his head up against the wall when the lights didn’t turn on. This was something else that happened a lot when they were hit by a storm, the power goes out.

After breakfast, Eddie got changed out of his pyjamas. He opted to put on an older black tee as he knew he’d be cleaning today. He pulled his iconic red shorts on and slipped on a pair of sneakers. He gathered up all of the cleaning supplies he had set aside for storms like these and set them out on his back porch.

The morning air smelled of rain and salt. The temperature had dropped a couple of degrees from the previous day, which was refreshing, but it didn’t change the fact that Eddie had a whole yard to clean.

First, he swept off the porch. He pushed all of the twigs, branches and sand onto the ground below. He noticed one of his neighbour’s palm trees had several fallen branches. That would explain the countless leaves that were scattered across his yard and filled his pool.

After, he collected as much of the debris from the lawn as he could. Stuffing everything into garbage bags, tying them up, then carrying them to his front yard, where they’d sit until garbage day. Once he was in his front yard, he looked around at his neighbour’s lawns and saw they were all going through the same hell that he was. Everyone was out with garbage bins and shovels, cleaning up the mess the storm left behind.

“EDDIE! HEY!” A voice called out to him.

Eddie turned towards the voice and saw his neighbour to the right, Beverly Marsh. He was one of the lucky kids who conveniently lived beside one of his best friends. While the rest of their Losers Club lived no more than 20 minutes away, Bev and Eddie lived the closest, which made it easy for the group to meet up. Even if their meetups almost always ended up at Eddie’s house.

When his mother was alive, she rarely let all of them come over, but now that she was gone, most of their summer break was spent in Eddie’s backyard, in the pool, on the beach, or in his basement watching movies. Eddie didn’t mind, he enjoyed the company. Especially since living alone got, well, lonely. So he made sure to soak up every moment he could get with his Losers.

Eddie’s resting bitch face was washed out and replaced by a genuinely happy smile. “Marsh! How’s it hanging?” Eddie said in his best surfer bro voice.

“It’s totally tubular,” She said, followed by a laugh. “How’s your place? No power?” She asked as she put down the bag she was holding and crossed her yard and onto Eddie’s.

“Yeah, and my yard is a fucking mess. Don’t even get me started on the pool,” Eddie groaned at the thought.

A smug smile spread over Beverly’s lips, “It’s the days like these when I’m grateful I don’t have a pool. Can’t you just get the pool guys to come and clean it?” She questions.

“I would but it’d cost me an arm and a leg. I’m just gonna clean then get someone to refill it. It’ll be fine,” He sighed. Eddie was gonna ask if she wanted to help but he lost his chance when Beverly’s aunt came outside.

“Beverly! Oh, Hi Eddie. How are you doing?” She smiled at him. Beverly’s aunt Katherine was always nice to Eddie, she always helped him whenever he needed it, cooking meals and helping with bills. She was pretty great.

“As good as I can be after a storm like this, crazy isn’t it?” He nods his head.

“It really is, on that note, Bev, we should be getting back to work,” She said as Bev nodded.

“I’ll see you later Eddie. Let me know if you get ahold of the rest of our rat pack, alright?” She winked as she slowly began to back away.

“Yes ma’am!” Eddie saluted and returned to the backyard.

He sighed. “No better time than the present, am I right?” He asked himself as he picked up the big net that was propped against the porch, then walked towards the pool.

The water had turned a dark green-grey. It didn’t smell too bad, which was a blessing as Eddie has a sensitive stomach and wasn’t in the mood of adding barf to his list of things to clean. He swept the net over the surface of the water for a couple minutes before noticing how there were a lot bigger pieces of debris than he had realized.

Looks like we gotta break out the big guns , Eddie left the net on the side of the pool and went to grab some rubber gloves and one of his big grey garbage cans. He stood at the edge of the pool and stared down at the water below him. It was different when he had the net, he barely had to lean over the edge, but now he was worried about falling in. What if I lean in, fall, and drown, or get knocked unconscious and die? Eddie calmed his breathing down before it got a chance to pick up.

“Okay, Eddie, you’re fine,” He let out a shaky breath. He ended up laying down on the pavement, flat on his stomach and stuck his arms over the edge, not daring to let anything below his neck hang over the edge of the pool. Slowly but surely he dragged most of the debris out and onto the pavement, which would then be put into the garbage, but right now he just needed to get everything out of the pool. Amongst the trash and green life he found in the water, he also fished out a pair of glasses, although they didn’t seem like normal glasses. First off, they were pretty big, but the lenses seemed oddly fogged and thick. Reminding Eddie of the sea glass he’s collected over the years of living on the coast. He set them aside and made a note to investigate them further once he was done here.

After a couple of hours of hard work, Eddie stood over the pool and admired all of his hard work. Sure there was still a bunch of shit at the bottom of the pool, but he agreed to clean that out once the pool had been emptied. There had been a particular pile of debris off in the corner that caught Eddie’s eye. It seemed to be a pile-up of plants and what looked to be a fishing net. He walked over to that side of the pool and squinted down at the trash. Something was dimly shining beneath the pile of soggy algae that covered it.

Maybe a fish got washed into the pool? Hm, poor dude, Eddie shrugged, about to walk away when the pile twitched ever so slightly, Eddie could have convinced himself he was seeing things, but something was telling him he wasn’t. Determined to see what it was, Eddie quickly grabbed the net and poked the pile of debris. He shied away after the first poke, then moved to poke it again. It twitched again. Eddie’s brow furrowed as he poked it again, a little harder this time. This time it shifted positions, allowing Eddie to see a little bit more of the creature that sat at the bottom of his pool.

The shine came from scales, and there were a lot of them. How big is this fucking fish? Oh shit- do I have a shark in my pool?! No dumbass, sharks don’t have scales…

Instead of poking it again, Eddie used the butt end of the net to try to move the debris off of the creature. He was able to push most of the algae aside, but the creature must’ve been tangled up in that damned net. The creature might not have been 100% visible, but he had a better view of it now.

“Is that? No way…” Eddie began to speak to himself as he examined the creature. “That can’t be...” He said as he examined the part of the creature that looked like it had hair. Well whatever it had that looked like hair, it was inky black, it slowly swayed around- A HEAD? “WHAT THE FUCK!” Eddie shrieked as he began to stumble backwards. He stammered and wobbled. But suddenly, one of the bricks that lined the pool gave out beneath him, and he fell forwards. He fell into the pool with a big splash.

He didn’t even have time to think, his mind was overtaken by panic. Eddie thrashed and splashed, he tried to pull himself to the surface but the water was blurring his vision, making it impossible to tell which way was up. He barely had time to take in any air as he was randomly tossed into the pool. So his lungs ached and his head throbbed. He wanted to scream out for help or stop moving just for a second, in hopes that’d he just float to the surface. But he couldn’t stop, his legs kicked wildly in the water, his shoes heavy on his feet and his clothes constricting his movement.

He was too busy thinking about his own death to notice the pair of arms that’d wrapped around his waist. Eddie’s lungs began to burn , they begged for air, but Eddie knew that he was not going to let his mouth open. He refused to die the same death that his parents had. With that, his vision began to blur more than it already was. His mind hazed over and his thrashing minimized. His vision was dotted with black spots, due to lack of oxygen.

I’m gonna die .

Suddenly he was gasping for air. His lungs heaved as he spat up water and tried to breathe in as much air as he could. He rubbed the water out of his eyes. It took a moment for his gaze to clear, but once he did he realized he was sitting on the edge of the pool, his clothes soaked and his hair filled with leaves and dirt.

What the fuck happened? How did I get here? The questions overloaded Eddie’s mind as his breathing quickened, there was so much going on, too much .

The water beside him splashed, a light spray of water settled on him. He hesitantly looked over, hoping to see nothing, that he had dreamt it all up. But when he turned his head, he saw something drifting slowly towards him in the water. He hadn’t failed to notice how murkey the water had gotten. It’s green tinge now brown, and a little red. He didn’t even let himself think about what made it red. Eddie panicked and jackknifed, hastily shuffling backwards and away from the water.

Eddie’s eyes were as wide as saucers, his eyebrows practically in his hairline. His breathing practically stopped as he watched the black hair he’d seen previously slowly poke up out of the water. Eddie wanted to get up and run, call the cops, something , but he couldn’t. He was frozen in fear and anticipation. He couldn’t help that little bit of wonder that filled his head as the creature continued to come up from the waters’ surface.

He watched as the head moved up just enough to reveal a pair of impossibly blue eyes. They stared back at him, partially covered by the black hair hanging in its face. Something about the eyes seemed hazy, almost as if they weren’t clear, they squinted for a moment before opening up wide again.

Eddie could only muster a weak “hi,” as he stared at the creature before him. The blue eyes rolled and bubbles erupted in front of him. The head sunk back down into the water.

A splash caused Eddie to tear his eyes away from where the head once was, and look up. Further down in the pool he watched as a fish like tail splashed against the surface of the water. Half of its fin was covered in the fishing net. The rope digging into the scales. Eddie finally saw what was the cause of the red in the water. The net had various hooks still attached to it. They dug into the scales of the tail, causing it to leak red blood. Eddie’s stomach dropped.

The tail splashed against the surface of the water again. It acted as a reality check for Eddie as he finally mustered the strength to stand up. Once he was on his feet, he wobbled momentarily before marching towards his porch. He didn’t look back as he closed his patio door. He kept walking until he was in his bathroom.

He turned on the shower and waited until it filled the small room with steam. The boiling water practically burned all the dirt off of his skin. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to even realize he began thinking out loud.

“There’s someone in my pool,” He started, his voice distant, “And a fish. A massive fucking fish.” He thought about the mess of hair he’d seen at the bottom of the pool. “No one can survive being underwater that long… No one, but not nothing.”

What if it wasn’t two things in my pool…

He contemplated the idea for a second, “BUT THEY DON’T EXIST!” Eddie shouted in frustration, thrusting his fist against the ceramic wall of his shower. So many ideas floated through Eddie’s head, he hated it, he hated not knowing what was in his pool. And he hated the fact that the only idea that made semi sense, was that he had a fucking mermaid in his pool.

“But they’re made-up. Stories, fairytailes. Not real life, ” He countered, recalling movies like The Little Mermaid and Aquamarine. “But what else explains the tail?” He asked himself in defeat.

Eddie turned the water to the shower off. His skin was red and raw, he could practically see the steam coming off of himself. He rested his forehead against the wall of his shower and tried to clear his head. In and out… In and out , he reminded himself as he took a couple minutes to just breathe .

After the hurricane in his head finally calmed down, he allowed himself to think back to what he’d seen outside. Careful to not open the dam of memories, he focused on the tail, the head, the water, the blood .

The poor thing is hurt , Eddie sharply inhaled. “Shit…” He recalled the net, and how it dug into the creature's tail. He shivered at the thought of what it must be going through. Then he remembered why he took the shower in the first place, he fell into the pool, and that fish thing, it saved him.

With a new game plan, Eddie finished up in the bathroom, got dressed, then got his fist aid kit and all the other supplies he needed. He went back outside, the sun beating down over his head as he stood on his patio and surveyed his backyard. A new level of determination filled the human. He was intrigued to find out what the hell was in his pool, and this was the best way he could find that out.

He marched down and to the water’s edge, but all the bravery he had mustered died the moment he saw the creature floating on its front at the edge of Eddie’s pool.

He raised his hands to cover his mouth, his eyes wide, “Fuck,” he cursed. His mind automatically assumed the worst, death . But he tried to mentally assure himself that it had just passed out as he didn’t want to panic.

Eddie got down on his knees and carefully leaned over to grab the creature. He held his breath, worried about falling in, but he was able to pull the creature to the edge of the pool. He pushed it over onto its back. He wanted to inspect its face and features but Eddie needed to get him out of the water before those cuts got infected.

Quickly, Eddie laid a towel down on the pavement beside the pool, worried about what the heat of the ground would do to the fish’s scales. When it came time to pulling the thing out of the water, he hadn’t thought about how much that fucking tale would weigh. He hooked his arms under the arms of the creature and tried to pull him out. He heaved and tugged.

“Holy shit- you’re so fucking heavy,” Eddie gasped, half way there , he thought to himself. All of the human part was out, and half of the tail, now all he had left was the rest of the tail and the monofin. Eddie took in one sharp inhale before he pulled the rest of it out in one final tug. He gasped as he suddenly landed on his back, the fish flopped down onto the towel beside him.

Eddie didn’t take too long to recover, he was too interested in seeing what exactly he had just fished out of his swimming pool. He sat on his knees and surveyed the creature that laid uncious before him.

It was indeed, a mermaid.

The upper half of its body was made of pasty white skin, as smooth as a shark's skin. It shined in the afternoon sunlight. Its arms were long and fairly skinny with a little muscles. Eddie carefully lifted up one of its hands. He inspected it, noticing how there was an almost translucent webbing that connected his long and bony fingers. Then he let out a small gasp at the claws that laid at the edges of his fingers. They looked sharp, one swipe would surely draw blood. With that, he carefully laid the hand back down by its side.

Eddie leaned forward a little to examine the creature's face. He lifted a hand, gently pushing some of the soggy hair out of his face. He frowned at the slash that ran across its cheeks, cutting through a wild pack of freckles. His pale skin allowed the freckles on his cheeks to shine like stars on a clear night. Eddie thought about counting them, like he had the stars, but he opted not to as he knew he had more pressing tasks at hand. He took one last glance at the face, allowing himself to soak in the mermaid's features in all its beauty. Yes, beauty. Even Eddie couldn’t deny it, the creature was fairly beautiful. But now isn't the time for crushes, Eddie shook his head as he finally made his way down to the tale.

Eddie examined its chest. It was fairly skinny, not malnourished, as in he could slightly see his ribs, but it wasn't too concerning. He noticed a couple bruises and various scrapes that would need to be disinfected. He followed the pale skin down. Suddenly Eddie’s brows furrowed together. The creature had no belly button. But if he had, then the scales would have started just below it.

Now without the water blurring their colour, he was able to see the scales in all their glory. They were a pastel blue, some places darker than others, the shades varying as the tail continued. The tip of its monofin shined a sparkly silver that could give the real stuff a run for its money.

Finally, he got to his feet and overlooked all of the creature’s injuries. Sure he had some scraps, cuts and bruises along the upper part of its body, but its tail got the worst of it. The net was tangled up in its monofin and dug into its scales, causing some of them to flake off.

He raked his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “Fuck,” he sighed, realizing how much work he had to do. Without wasting any more time, he leaned over to the abundance of supplies he’d brought outside and grabbed the exacto knife to cut the net. Just as the blade popped out and Eddie leaned in, something cold and slimy grabbed his wrist. His body went cold, head snapping towards the mermaids. His eyes locked with the fish’s. The blues of his eyes were wide and determined. Eddie looked down and realized it was the hand with the knife. Quickly he grabbed the knife with his free hand and tossed it to the side.

“Hey-Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie motioned his hands to show that they were empty and he meant no harm. Only then did the creature release Eddie’s hand, his head flopping back against the towel. Eddie leaned over and saw that its eyes were still open, but they were hazed, almost unfocused. Eddie didn’t think too much of it, probably the salt water making him go blind or something.

“Okay, I’m just gonna try to remove the net, alright?” He asked, but received no response. He leaned back over and pulled his bifocals out of his second fanny pack, then leaned back in and began examining the net.

The mermaid’s head tilted upwards, it watched the human’s fingers traced along the edges of the net. Its eyes grew wide at the sight of the spectacles on Eddie’s face.

Eddie noticed the movement and glanced over at the creature. He hummed lightly, wondering what it was looking at. The moment didn’t last too long as when Eddie leaned away from the tail, the creature lunged at him. Its arms out and claws sharp, its eyes filled with determination. Eddie shrieked and fell backwards, his hands flew up to his face.

After a moment of heavy breathing, he realized he felt no pain. He slowly moved his shaky hands away from his face and looked up at the mermaid. He was surprised to see it carefully holding his bifocals.

It held it in his hands as if they were so fragile they’d break. The creature slid them onto his face as if it was a second nature. The blue eyes blinked a couple times before its face scrunched up in confusion. It took the glasses off and held them once again in its hands. Now its face was filled with disbelief and worry.

“What?” Eddie asked, unsure of what was happening.

The creature looked up at the human with sad, hazy eyes. For a moment they just held eye contact, as if they were having a conversation with their eyes in a language Eddie didn’t understand. Then the creature held the glasses out towards Eddie with one hand, while the other pointed towards its own chest.

Eddie’s face scrunched up, he hated charades. “What about the glasses?”.

The creature pointed to itself once again.

“Your glasses?” Eddie suggested, and the blue eyes widened to an impossible size. A new emotion spread over the fish’s face, excitement. “Yeah?” Eddie asked, and nodded. “Yeah!” Eddie said happily. “Yeah…” he repeated, this time with fear laced in his voice as he had no clue where its glasses were.

Since when do mermaids wear glasses anyways? What the fuck?

“Wait- You can understand me?” It finally dawned on Eddie, he’d been talking to a mermaid, and it was responding… technically.

Its eyebrows lowered and their glare became sharp, as if to say ‘ Yeah, so? ’, followed by a slow nod. Now it had used its free arm to prop itself up on it’s elbow so they were almost at eye level.

Eddie smiled softly at the fish, his cheeks a little warmer than they were before. He nervously chuckled, “Oh, cool”. He rubbed the back of his neck, diverting his gaze around the backyard so he didn’t have to stare into those ocean eyes any longer. His sight landed on the pile of trash he said he’d sort through later that laid on his lawn and he noticed a piece of glass that shined in the light.

Eddie gasped, he jumped from his sitting position up to his feet and ran to his pile of trash. He snatched the object up off of the lawn and ran back to the mermaid, practically falling down beside it. Eddie got situated on the ground, a wide smile on his face. He held them and carefully opened them up, without any further wait, he leaned in and slid the glasses on the mermaid's face.

The fish was confused at first, unsure of how to feel about the human being so close. But the small boy didn’t give it much of a chance to react because before he could flinch, his vision cleared. Its hands moved up to its face and felt around, touching the glasses that they knew all too well.

Finally being able to see clearly, it looked up at the boy in front of it. Its lips curved into a wide smile that got a little giggle out of the human.

“So I guess those are yours?” Eddie asks.

The mermaid nods proudly. The moment is cut short when a bolt of pain cuts through the fish’s tail, it grimaces and hisses.

Eddie tenses at the sound, “Oh shit! Sorry, but can I please use the knife?” He beged, eyes wide and worried.

The mermaid lies back down on the towel, eyes forced shut. It nods.

Okay, okay, okay . Eddie’s thoughts pick up at the thought of being so close to the creature. Not because it’s like- cute or anything, no , it’s because he doesn't want to hurt it. Yeah, that’s why .

Eddie gripped the exacto knife with enough strength to make his knuckles go white. His eyes skimmed over the net, deciding on where to cut. He found a spot he claimed to be a good start and began cutting. He sliced the net up and into pieces, slowly freeing the tail from its grasp. Soon enough he was just left with the pieces that had the hooks attached to them.

“Sorry this is gonna hurt,” Eddie said before he carefully pulled the fist hook loose. The fish’s breathing hitched and filled with pain. “ Sorry!” Eddie grimaced as he pulled another one out. This one leaked a lot more blood and the mermaids hand smacked around the ground, causing Eddie to jump at the sudden sound. It felt like it took hours to fully free the tail, but soon enough the deed was done.

Eddie leaned back on his hands and tilted his head up towards the sun. “I’m sorry,” he breathed before looking back down at the mermaid. It sat upright now, carefully examining its tail. It reached out to touch one of the cuts. Eddie jumped into action and slapped the hand away. It hissed at Eddie. “Hey! Don’t do that, I’ve still gotta disinfect them, okay?” His tone grew impatient as he cracked open the first aid kit.

His back began to ache from the hours he’d spent hunched over the blue tail, disinfecting the scrapes and bandaging the deeper cuts. He moved on to the upper half of the creature.

“Tell me if this hurts, okay?” Eddie requested as the mermaid gave him a side eye look. Eddie began to slowly put pressure on different places on the fish’s chest, mainly the places with the bruises to see if- The mermaid let out a loud hiss. Eddie’s hands shot up and away as its claws came into view again. “Sorry! You have an injured rib, so that’s why it hurts. You won’t be able to move much until it heals,” Eddie explained, his mind going through the healing process when he realized it won’t be able to swim in this condition, and it certainly can’t stay on land in Eddie’s backyard.

“Oh…” Eddie’s graze dropped, a sudden wave of fatigue washed over him as he realized what he’s gonna have to do. But before he allowed himself to think over the idea too much, he finished cleaning all of the cuts that needed it.

“O-Okay, so I-um.... I can’t leave you here, and I can’t bring you back to the ocean cause you’re hurt and you need to properly heal. So i’m gonna bring you into my house and keep you in my bathtub, okay?” He rambled in hopes the creature understood what he was saying. God, I sound fucking insane. This is insane! I can’t keep an oversized goldfish in my tub. But I can’t leave him out here… the pool guys are coming tomorrow and if they see him we’d be in so much shit- It’s the only way . Eddie finalized his plan with a sigh.

“You,” he pointed at the creature, “stay,” he demanded before he got up and went back inside. He ran upstairs and into the bathroom, flopped down beside the big bathtub, and began running the water. He set the temperature to warm then took a moment to catch his breath.

Everything began to settle in. The mermaid, the scales, the storm, the future, the creature’s eyes, its freckles- Okay, Eddie stop it. It’s a fucking sea creature, you can’t have a crush on it . He huffed and rolled his eyes at his gay thoughts. Eddie’s been out for a couple months now, to his mother's dismay, and he’s been happy. Sure he’s had a couple crushes before, but he’s never had one on a fish person… So he wasn't too sure what to think of that.

The white noise created by the running water created a soothing atmosphere for the boy, and for a moment, he sat in silence and just breathed . Though the moment was short lived, a low whale-like sound erupted from his stomach, reminding him about the fact that he hasn't had lunch yet. He looked down at his watch and saw it was already 3 pm.

Holy shit, time flies when you're with a merman. If I’m hungry then imagine what it must be feeling, when was the last time it ate? What does it eat? Do I have anything to feed it? Okay let’s just focus on getting it inside first- Also? Finding a fucking name for this thing, I can’t keep calling it, well, IT!

Eddie shook all of the static out of his head and pulled himself to his feet. He turned the knob to the bathtub and turned the water off, he hoped the temperature would suffice, he’d find out soon enough.

Going back to the mermaid in his backyard, he found it in the same place he left it, which was a relief. Still on its back, with an arm on its forehead to shade its eyes from the blaring afternoon sun. It sensed the human before he approached. It moved its arm and tilted its head to look up at the towering figure.

“Hi again, so I need to pick you up to bring you inside. So you don't… die. Is that okay?” Eddie asked awkwardly. The creature simply shrugged, as if to say ‘Do what you need’. “Okay, well , you need to help me out cause you weigh a fucking ton and I am not strong. So wrap your arms around my neck and don’t-don’t fucking eat me,” Eddie instructed as he got down on his knees, bracing himself for the weight he’d soon carry.

The mermaid sat up. Eddie moved his hands underneath the tail, he didn’t wait for the mer to move its arms because he knew if he waited any longer he’d convince himself not to. So he sharply inhaled and lifted the mermaid up bridal style. He wobbled slightly as he gained his balance on his feet. The wobble sent a shiver down the mer’s spine, he jumped to wrap its arms around Eddie’s neck in fear of being dropped.

The sudden motion made Eddie smirk. “Oh, now you do it,” he forced a small laugh. Eddie began to walk forward towards the house, each step harder than the last.

When they got to the stairs, Eddie’s breath hitched when he went up the first stair, his arms almost gave out from beneath him.

The mermaid shook and buried its face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Eddie felt the glasses dig into his neck. With the sudden change of proximities, the mer’s breath sent shivers down Eddie’s back, it was slow and warm.

The muscles in his arms burned before he even started up the staircase to the second flood. “Fuck… me,” Eddie murmed, as if it was going to take away the fiery pain that ran through his body.

Eddie was practically dragging his feet as he walked, unable to bring them up from the ground. His vision was set on the staircase in front of him, so he didn’t notice the one floorboard that was slightly higher than the others. The toe of his foot collided with the floorboard and they went toppling forward, hitting the floor with a big thump .

The creature let out a ear bleeding shriek as it fell, then pain erupted from its tail as it landed on the ground. Certainly the extra weight of a human on its torso didn’t help at all.

Eddie was in shock for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. Looking around he turned and saw he was now face to face with the mermaid. Their eyes locked, both of them wild and concerned. Eddie snapped himself back into reality before he could get lost in the ocean eyes again.

“I-I’m sorry. Shit , I’m so sorry,” Eddie stammered, his body weak and his arms aching. He rolled off the creature and onto his back. “I’m sorry,” He croaked, the failure settling in.

He didn’t move his gaze from the ceiling over his head. He didn’t want the mer to see his eyes as they filled with tears. Something cold rested on top of Eddie’s hand. Hesitantly, he dragged his eyes over to the creature beside him. The hand held onto his own as the mermaid’s lips offered a tight but comforting smile, as if to say, it’s okay, really . Eddie shifted his hand ever so slightly so the mer’s hand fit more comfortably in his. The webbing that lined the fingers of the mermaid’s hand tickled Eddie’s. Its thumb rubbed slow circles over Eddie’s knuckles.

“A-Are you okay?” Eddie whispered worriedly.

The creature was in pain, for sure, but it nodded anyways, for the human’s sake.

Neither of them were sure how long they stayed like that, hand in hand, breathing laboured and heavy, eyes on the ceiling. Although at some point Eddie’s arms felt a smidge better, and his breathing had returned. That’s when he knew he had to try again.

“1....2...3!” Eddie lifted the mermaid off the ground again. It seemed just a little easier than last time. This time he kept his breathing steady, and kept his eyes going from the stairs in front of him to his goal, the bathroom.

Once they stood in the middle of the upstairs hallway, Eddie took a minute and stood and caught his breath. He noticed the way the mer’s eyes drifted and examined his new surroundings. But something caught his eye and Eddie felt one of the arms slowly move away from his neck. Hesitantly he turned his head just in time to see the clawed hand reaching out for Eddie’s own little creature that sat in a fish tank that lined the hallway. It was his pet betta fish, Goldy. (He wasn't a creative kid, okay?).

“NO!” Eddie exclaimed, almost dropping the mermaid again. The sudden motion caused the arm to wrap back around Eddie’s neck in fear of being dropped. “Do not eat my goldfish. She is a friend, not fucking food,” he practially growled.

The creature shrank away, not a fan of the tone Eddie had gained. As much as it wanted to lean away from the boy who just scolded him, it leaned into Eddie, it liked the warmth his skin gave off. It curled a little deeper into his touch, putting his chin on top of his shoulder and nestling into the side of his face.

Eddie got the mermaid settled into the bathtub and immediately noticed a change in its mood. Suddenly its eyes had a new sparkle to them and his lips were always semi smiling.

Eddie sat on the closed toilet seat and took in the sight before him. A mermaid in my bathtub… This’ll be one hell of a diary entry . “So! I-er, I hope this isn’t rude, but are you a girl or a boy? I know you don’t have boobs but I really don’t know how this whole mermaid thing works,” Eddie stopped himself before he kept rambling.

The mer lifted two fingers in the air. Two, second, second option. “Boy?” Eddie tilted his head. The creature nodded. He sighed in relief, “Good, good… I-I’m Eddie by the way.” The creature nodded again then ducked his head down into the water and blew bubbles up at the human. Eddie huffed in amusement at the gesture.

The human’s stomach rumbled again. He rolled his eyes in response. He didn’t even bother telling the mermaid- merman? Merman. He didn’t bother telling him he was gonna leave cause the mer looked like he was having the time of his life blowing bubbles down under. Once he was in the kitchen, Eddie tried to be quick, opening up every cupboard and checking everywhere for food fit for a fish. The only thing he came across that seemed semi-suitable were fish sticks. Eddie eyed them for about half a minute before ripping the bag open, throwing them into a container then shoving it in the microwave. He made himself a quick sandwich, cheese and ketchup (That was the most unhealthy food Sonia ever let Eddie eat so let him be). He’d barley chewed his first bit before the microwave beeped. He held the sandwich in between his lips and held the container with both hands, moving it between the two cause it was hot.

Once he was back in the bathroom he took his seat back down on the toilet seat and set the container on his lap. Eddie quickly ate his sandwich, only when he looked up did he notice the merman’s eyes were sitting out of the water, watching him like a hawk from behind his sea glasses.

“Hungry?” Eddie asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

The merman lifted the rest of his head out of the water at the sight of the food. Eddie held up a fish stick, “Okay, I know this is like processed shit but,” he sighed, tired of all the talking and manual labour he’s been doing, “It’s all I have.”

The mer shrugged and opened his mouth, asking Eddie to feed him. The human was taken aback at the gesture, but he gave in and picked up a fish stick, tearing a bite-sized chunk off. Eddie leaned forward and held it out just in front of the mer’s face. Its lips felt soft against the human skin as it took the food from him. It gulped it down happily then opened his mouth up again. The fish finished the whole container.

He opened his mouth again and Eddie scoffed, “I’m all out fish boy! I guess I’ll go get some stuff tomorrow,” Eddie motioned to the empty container. The fish let out a low grumble as he sunk back under the water and blew bubbles at Eddie, as if showing attitude.

“Oh shut it trashmouth,” Eddie retorted, the nickname just slipped out.

The water sloshed against the side of the tub as his eyes burst back out of the water.

Eddie let out a nervous laugh at the sudden movement, “W-What? You like that, trashmouth? ” Eddie said in a teasing manner. The mer’s lips smirked from underwater. The sight brightened Eddie’s smile.

“Well, trashmouth, I have no clue what time it is but I’m tired as fuck. I’m gonna go to sleep. You should too, so you can heal,” Eddie advised. He stood, took a step towards the tub and ruffled the fish’s hair. The mer leaned into the touch, the both of them enjoyed the physical attention.

Word count: 7604

I hope you guys liked the first chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments. I will see you guys next week with chapter 2, Sushi and Speeches. Until then, So Long And Goodnight.

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veridium · 4 years

Text

shot at the night

Good morning and happy Sunday, folks!

Time for a College AU Update to end the suffering of that beautiful cliff-hanger @bitchesofostwick set up for us last week. Hope you enjoy the highs and lows of college soccer!

fic master post // last chapter

One minute they are having a great time, even though it’s freezing and the Beam isn’t helping nearly as much as she hoped it would. The crowd is lively and drenched in school sweaters, beanies, and scarves -- Ellinor being a perfect example. It’s overwhelming. But only one moment pushes her over the edge: seeing a crowd of jerseys around the goal, the same goal Cassandra volleyed around that night after practice. The same one she was laying in front of, back on the grass and leg curled up against her.

An unbearable ringing in her ear. Ellinor’s voice from her standing position next to her. The cheez-its all over them and their feet. The crowd isn’t noisy anymore. She wishes it was.

“...Liv! Liv, hey…” she hears Ellinor as she sits down, shaking Liv’s thigh. She feels her, she hears her say her name, but she can’t follow. She’s consumed in the sight of Cassandra’s face straining with pain: biting her lip, opening and closing her eyes harshly while her chest rises and falls rigidly against her knee.

Olivia’s heart beats faster than she can count, like a hummingbird’s hopped up on a red bull.

Ellinor’s hand switches from her thigh to her shoulder, shaking again. “Liv!”

Olivia shakes her head. “Ellinor…”

“Liv, it’s okay, they’re gonna--”

“What happened? What did they do?”

“I don’t know!” she says, aggravated. She seems distracted, and she probably is. A couple yards away Cullen looks like a Bull preparing to charge at the man in bright blue, and the players are mean-mugging the other team. There’s cursing, and shouting, so loud the stilled crowd can hear them from the bleachers.

“What happened?!” she repeats, as if now she’ll know. As if she saw something Liv didn’t see, even though they were sitting together in the same spot at the same time.

“I think...I think a player did Cassandra dirty,” Maryden offers.

Ellinor stands up again, probably to see it all better. Olivia doesn’t need to. She can’t bear to take her eyes off of Cassandra still on the ground. One of her teammates crouches beside her and is talking to her. But are they saying the right things? What are they saying? Are they being nice to her?

Olivia’s panic heightens. “Someone...s-someone did this on purpose?”

“That player would get a yellow card, I think. It’s a big foul to play aggressively like that, especially with a goalie.”

Ellinor puts her hands on her hips. “Red card, they have to! That was a red card!” She must be reading Cullen’s lips. She is an expert on the subject of his lips, after all.

“What are they saying?!” Olivia asks, hands tugging at the knee-cap rips in her jeans.

“They’re….they...shit, the ref is being an idiot,” Ellinor replies. “He’s arguing with Cullen...fuck, and now Lys is walking over…”

“W-why is he arguing? Isn’t it a fault--”

“A foul…”

“A foul, yes, thank you Maryden,” Olivia tries her best to maintain diplomacy, but it’s falling fast. Before she can think to say anything else, however, the crowd erupts in boos and groans. Their side of the crowd, that is. The players start to disburse from the area, all except for a few of the who remain near Cassandra. A couple guys in navy blue jumpsuits with a medic bag jog over -- what took them so long?

Then, the Knights side of the audience starts booing even louder than before.

“Fuck that! Fuck you, Ref!” Ellinor shouts, hands cupped around her mouth.

Olivia’s ear ringing intensifies as Ellinor sits back down in a huff. “Wait...w-wait, what?” she looks at her.

“The ref is yellow-carding the player.”

“Normal people words, Ellinor!”

“It means they won’t take them off the field! Just a warning. Cullen was right, they’re gonna play like devils.”

Olivia’s brows lift so high they stand to broach the stratosphere. The ref is indeed walking with a small yellow card above his head, whistling so that both sides see. The ringing in her mind turns to Kill Bill sirens. Hearing ‘stern warning,’ it’s yellow-jumpsuit-and-sword time. She slowly turns her head and sees the Warden’s side, where one player is being talked to more than most. It’s someone pretty with a long, brown ponytail and a hairband. Someone whispers something, and they smile. Laugh, even. Their teammate pats them on the shoulder. It’s all congratulations disguised as comfort. No respect, no remorse.

Oh, hell no.

Olivia slides her jacket off of her shoulders. Cold? Fuck cold. She takes out one stud earring. While working on the other, she catches Ellinor’s attention.

“Uh, Liv...what are you--”

“Hold these.” Liv shoves her jewelry in Ellinor’s lap without a damn to give. Ellinor acts like the cheez-its have been spilled all over again.

“Liv, no.”

“Yes.”

“No, don’t--”

“Be right back.”

“No!”

She laces her fingers to crack her knuckles. As if entranced by seeing red, she rises and side-steps to the stairs, pushing past a nice older couple. Her nose and mouth are crinkling, hot air fuming out her nostrils as she races down.

“Liv!” Ellinor screams again.

Feeling like she is being followed -- which she most likely is -- Olivia only hastens. Down the fence aisle, boots hitting the concrete as she nears the opening to the field. Then, hands grab her right arm.

“Olivia Berenice, do not even think--!”

Liv’s mouth arrives before her body does, and she turns toward the Warden’s side of the field. With her free hand she punches against the fence; a loud hissing sound reverberates and further concerns the masses. If they weren’t already, surely what followed would be the cherry on top:

“YOU WANT TO BRING THAT SMILE OVER HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH? I’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO SMILE ABOUT! NUMBER 14! YEAH, YOU! HOW ABOUT YOU TAKE THAT TACKY-ASS HAIRBAND AND SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT! THAT’S RIGHT! CHOKE YOU RANK, ABHORRENT BASTARD!”

Maryden, with Ellinor’s help -- or someone, Olivia can’t really tell in the moment -- hoist Olivia up over their shoulder. That does nothing to break her focus, especially considering the player has noticed her rancor and is staring worriedly at the bleachers where some bouncy goth blonde is frothing at the mouth. Their teammates see, too, and their faces are even more grim. The sick glee has gone.

While she clamors and nearly knees the person who’s carrying her in the gut several times, she gets one last promise in: “THERE IS NOT A CHAIN OR LOCK OR WALL THAT IS STRONG ENOUGH TO KEEP ME FROM SHOVING MY FOOT SO FAR UP YOUR ASS YOU’LL BE FLOSSING WITH MY SHOELACES!”

The crowd is nervously observing her when she is returned to their seats. Turns out it was Maryden, the taller of the three, carrying her while Ellinor was reinforcement and likely smiling at everyone to save face.

“AND FUCK YOU, WARDENS!! FUCK YOU AND YOUR GRIMEY ASSES!”

Apparently that is a much more popular sentiment. The crowds start applauding voraciously, as if they’re front row for a Boxing match. They could be, if only her friends wouldn’t be such killjoys and let justice be brought down.

“Liv, contain yourself, dammit!” Ellinor lands next to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. More shaking.

Growling, Olivia frees herself from her grip, spitting her own hair out of the side of her mouth. “Kindly kiss my ass Ellinor, you’d be melting the fence down to get to her if it was Cullen!”

Ellinor opens her mouth, finger pointed, but she stops. Slouching a bit, she looks away and concedes quietly.

“Still, you could have caused a penalty,” Maryden warns over Ellinor’s shoulder, all cool and collected as if she was just picking daises somewhere, and not man-handling a 5’2” enraged queer girl like a disgruntled shih tzu.

“I hope I do. Maybe then the Ref will recognize one when they see it!”

Unfortunately, in her fury Olivia has lost track of the most important thing -- the most important person -- and she races to catch up. Cassandra is not only standing, but walking. Limping heavily, she has her arm around Cullen. Is that Cullen? Curly blonde, red face...yes, that’s Cullen. The crowd applauds with relief and encouragement.

“See, Liv? She’s up!”

Olivia, far from satisfied: “Yes, that’s just her natural swaggering gait.”

“Well…”

Maryden clears her throat. “Cassandra is very fit and capable. I’m sure she’ll bounce back super fast!”

Olivia scowls, still watching as Cass is escorted off the field. The medic is on her like bees on honey. Meanwhile, she seems more concerned with talking to Cullen, who’s listening intently like he’s being told a litany of life-altering secrets. Perhaps that there’s writing on the back of the Declaration of Independence. Cassandra, though, Cassandra still seems focused. She can barely put any weight on her foot; despite that, it’s as if it hardly matters to her. Maryden is right.

Though her knuckles turn white from clamping on the bench edge, Olivia remembers a lick of sense enough to do as Ellinor wishes. She even feels a bit ashamed, like waking up from a fever dream having made lunatic choices all night long. Ellinor’s mounting agitation provides a distraction.

“Shit…”

Olivia blinks. “What?”

Ellinor watched like a hawk, nose tipped toward the sky. “I think Cullen is working as Captain now.”

Olivia follows her stare and sees the two teams congregating back to their respective formations. Cullen is back to his spot, talking to two other players, pointing and gesturing towards them like he’s calling some shots. Maybe Ellinor is right. It would make sense, with their bromance and Cullen’s experience, that Cassandra would default to him. Olivia glances to the sideline one more time to see that the medics are still tending to Cassandra and her leg, all three looking much calmer.

With a deep breath, she curls her arm around Ellinor, who stops bobbing her anxious leg up and down. “Well then, we’re in good hands.” And so they were.

Continuing to keep calm as best she can, Olivia pays more attention to the game. The Knights, having lost their leader unjustly, are reinvigorated. The replacement goalie looks younger but is ready for business. And Cullen? Cullen goes from Golden Retriever to German Shepherd. For the bulk of the second half the Wardens try time and time again to make it past the Knights’ defense, to no avail. With each advance Ellinor nearly skyrockets into the air watching out for him. When the time outs hit, Cullen is the one talking the team through the huddle, and he does so with considerable fortitude.

It’s getting to be final few minutes in the game -- or so Maryden and Ellinor promise after it goes longer than the promised 90. Time making up for all the penalties, they say. Well, to Olivia it’s just time preventing her from finding out if Cass is okay. During the last 15-20 minutes of the game, she was taken off the field. It looked like the ankle was causing more pain, too much to just be taped up on the bench. But no one can know for sure. It’s a little harder to breathe without her there.

With all this said, the moment the whistles finally sound off, and their half of the crowd leaps to their feet, it’s a good moment. Good because the team deserves it, and even better because Ellinor loses her damn mind.

“AHHH DID YOU SEE HIM! DID YOU SEE HIM THAT LAST TIME? THAT SLIDE TO BLOCK?!” Ellinor yells as she hops up and down. Maryden is dancing with her, which is a God-send, because all Olivia can do is stand up and clap. That, and a sweet, sweet smile that is dual-purpose for showing her teeth as the Wardens slip off the field. To no one’s surprise, the hand-shakes between the two teams is kept brief to avoid further injury.

The team is also going wild on the field, tackling and running around each other like excited kids. One or two get a water bottle sprayed in their face. Laughter, smiles, and joy. When the trophy gets handed off -- yes, a trophy, a real trophy -- Cullen is the rightful receiver. The players hoist him up onto their shoulders, up and down with fists up in the air. He’s smiling modestly but sincerely as he holds the hunk of metal above his head. Ellinor is almost crying as she pulls the collar of her sweater up over her mouth and holds it there.

It kinda aches to watch, knowing how much Cassandra worked to lead them here. However, Olivia notices Cullen gaze down at everyone supporting him. Though she can’t hear what he says, by the shape of his lips he seems to say something like “for Cassandra, guys.”

Then, smiling feels easier to do.

Ellinor takes hold of her hand, pulling her along with Maryden down to the steps. The majority of the audience is doing the same to get down to the grass and join in. “Come on!” she says, “let’s go see them!”

Olivia follows along until they make it to the field, where she can better see the nearby locker rooms. She pulls back, and Ellinor turns. Olivia slows to a halt and eyes the lockers. Without having to utter a word, Ellinor gets the message. A brief respite in her wide smile.

“Liv, she’s going to be okay. Don’t worry!”

“What if she isn’t?”

From across the field, Cullen’s champion voice calls Ellinor’s name. Then, several others repeat it, like she’s the First Lady of Soccer. Ellinor waves a hand at them, as if they’re interrupting some private conference, but Olivia quickly stops her.

“Hey, go! Go see him!” she encourages, “I’m just gonna hang back and see if she can answer my texts.”

Ellinor eyes her, but when the boys call after her a second time, she gives in. She gives Olivia a one-armed hug before running off toward her Knight-in-shining-jersey and his comrades. It’s all rather romantic, what she sees of it. Olivia follows the boundary sideline and keeps her distance; luckily for the Wardens, they decide to clear out rather expediently.

Watching the players and their loved ones congregate, Olivia pulls out her phone. No messages, no calls, no nothing. She wonders if Cassandra would even have phone access, or think of using it. Wouldn’t this be a time to call family, anyways?

She sends along a message just as a shot in the dark:

-- Hey, you okay?

Her eyes light up when the message is almost immediately read, as if Cass had their messages pulled up already. The typing symbol appears. Then, a response:

Cassandra: Was just about to text

Cassandra: Is the game still going?

-- No, the Knights won!

Cassandra doesn’t reply. Olivia’s ear ringing sets off again. She twitches her freezing fingers, teetering on how to act. The boundaries of what is too much and what is too little seem so incoherent. She hadn’t exactly read the part in the new budding romance manual titled “What To Do If Your Girlfriend Falls in Sport Combat.”

-- You need help? I’m out here if you need me.

Cassandra: I’m okay. Medic says I should think about hospital.

-- Really? I can drive you

Cassandra: It’s probably just a sprain, I’ll be fine

-- Do you need a ride? I can give you one! It’s fine!

As she hits send, the grass in front of Olivia becomes vastly overshadowed. Looking up, she sees part of the party has come to her. Cullen, with Ellinor under his arm and the trophy in his free hand, along with several others: Rylen, Lys, Krem and Maryden, and a still more. They’re all looking at her expectantly, and it feels like the field lights all hone on her. A day ago, she would have said they all thought her too bizarre or scary to do this. How things change.

“Hey, Liv,” Cullen says first, face glistening with sweat and likely Powerade, “any news?”

Wait...they all just expect that I know? She scans from right to left. Their previous expressions of raw, unadulterated joy have become sorrier. She folds her arms against herself, phone tucked.

“She says she’s good. They said to go to the hospital, but she disagrees.”

“Fuck yeah, she’s a tank,” Rylen remarked. “That asshole had a red card coming!”

They sound off in groans and growls of agreement. Olivia silently sighs and tucks hair behind her ear.

Cullen frowns. “If she needs to, she should go. She knows we won, right? I should go check on her--”

“Yeah, she--”

“Yeah, I know!”

They all turn on a dime toward the commanding voice behind them. Olivia is the last to see through all their broad figures, but she really doesn’t need to. She knows that voice. What’s harder to take is the sight that comes with it: crutches, right lower leg wrapped in ice and tape, and brow just as sweaty as her team’s are. Still in her uniform but with a down jacket over it.

While they rush over to her, doing everything short of tackling her to the ground, Cullen, Ellinor, and Olivia hang back. Ellinor watches Olivia as she tries her best not to shrivel up and die, mortified with her own over-sentimentality. She gives her a caring look, one of those ‘it’s okay, dude, don’t beat yourself up’ looks.

Cullen has his own matter to settle. Breaking from Ellinor’s hold, he joins the group and faces his friend and roommate who’s everyone’s talking at with exuberance and concern at the same time.

“Hey, Cass,” he says, the trophy in both hands. “Look, I, uh, if anyone deserves this, it’s you.”

He holds it out to her, which is a bit charmingly clumsy considering both Cassandra’s hands are occupied with crutches. Several others murmur in affirmation, things like “yeah, Captain,” “Oh Captain, my Captain!” and “Boss Lady.” A few whistles. Cassandra locks eyes with him and smiles as she straightens up as much as possible. She glances at either side of her before shaking her head.

She gently pushes the trophy gently back towards him. “You brought it home, Cullen. The honor is yours. And all of you! You have made me the proudest Captain this side of the continent.”

The happy mob’s affirmations grow louder. Some claps, even. Cullen chuckles heartily and, unable to help himself, hands off the trophy to Lysette and pulls Cassandra into a hug. She almost loses her crutches, but no matter. Her one capable arm reaching back around Cullen’s shoulders, patting him with as much strength as she can, says the embrace is anything but unwelcome.

Olivia bites back a sigh of relief, one Ellinor notices of course.

“Hey,” she says out the side of her mouth, “you good?”

Olivia slides her phone into her back pocket. Guess I won’t be needing this anymore. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“You sure?”

“I just...”

Rylen’s rallying voice cuts through the merriment, just as it all seems concluded. “Hey! If anyone needs a trophy, it’s ‘Livia!”

Olivia freezes as she looks back to the group, who is once again all turning to look at her. Cullen and Cass are the last to, but when they do, Cassandra’s eyes land directly on her.

“Yeah, man,” Krem laughs, “scared the shit out of the offense, you hear that?” he asks Cassandra, who doesn’t so much as sniff in his direction. She’s still staring, hard to read as ever. Suddenly the infamy feels more like an embarrassing tattle-tale, and Olivia can feel her cheeks growing red from something other than Whiskey during a November night. More players chime in with their version of the sordid event:

“Yeah, see that? The--”

“--she had what, three people holding her back? Chr--”

“Yeah, we should have had her on the field to back up Rylen!”

“Shit, no kidding--”

“Hate it if that was what was waiting for me on the side-line”

“--that shoelaces line? Man--”

“Hey, hey, everyone,” Cullen intervenes, hands out and dad voice on full blast. He’s tuned into Olivia’s embarrassment like the nightly news. “Give her a break, okay?”

They all go solemnly silent, which makes it even worse. Olivia’s finally brave enough to lock eyes with Cassandra, who still hasn’t flinched. Dammit, if only she knew how she was taking all this. It’s not like she meant to go back on her WWE ways tonight. Dammit, lowkey, Olivia. We’re supposed to be lowkey. This is not lowkey! This is like the opposite of lowkey! High-key! Mt. Everest Key!

A nudge from Ellinor knocks her out of her mental death spiral enough to realize they’re all expecting her to see what she has to say for herself.

“I, uh…” she says to Cassandra, not daring to move.

A sudden, uneven grin. One could almost say cocky. Regardless, it’s a grin, and it’s on Cassandra’s face as she speaks her first words to her:

“Let this be a lesson, then, everyone: don’t cross my girlfriend.”

Blush? No, not blush. Lava, molten to the core, floods Olivia’s cheeks. Her heart nearly stops dead after so much racing. ‘Oohs’ and ‘aahs’ surround them, not nearly as rambunctious as before, but then someone wolf-whistles. Olivia wants to simultaneously jump her bones and roar about how much she scared the living shit out of her.

She said it. Loud and clear.

“Olivia?” Cassandra then asks, amidst the reactions.

“Uh...u-uh...yeah,” she mutters, taking one last look at Ellinor before coming forward. Step by step, until she’s as close as she can be while still being respectable. Then, a halt.

The others go even quieter. Cassandra smirks a bit. “I have a favor to ask.”

Olivia’s brows lift sincerely. “Yes?”

A pause, wherein Cassandra takes a stiff breath. Her throat catches on something that sounds like pain under good, honest humor.

“Could you please take me to the hospital so that I can get this son-of-a-bitch x-rayed and some ibuprofen?”

She waits until there’s just a hint of doubt in Cassandra’s face. So much so the “audience” of sorts shuts up again to hang on her word. When it’s just the right moment, she comes even closer.

“...get in my car, Pentaghast,” she commands, slipping her keys out of her coat pocket and twirling them around on her finger.

As if the moment wasn’t momentous enough, either the adrenaline or savvy romance of it proves inspiring. Cassandra smiles even wider, reaching just enough to snag the edge of Olivia’s coat and pull her in. In return, Olivia takes hold of the neck of her jersey, just enough for the drama without pulling her off her already-precarious balance. It’s the fourth time they ever share a kiss on a soccer field.

Everyone erupts in laughter, more clapping, and whistling. Olivia and Cassandra end their kiss in order for a proper congratulatory hug.

Rylen, again, proves the most dedicated to capping off the moment: “I told you, Krem! Pay up!”

“I didn’t bet no, dude!”

“Yeah but you bet maybe! $5 or three fireball shots at the afterparty!”

From farther away, Ellinor’s voice squeaks with a bit of shivering: “Did you say ‘fireball’?”

#day & age #college AU #ellinor trevelyan #olivia sinclair #college!Olivia #modern!olivia #THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF COLLEGE INTRAMURAL SOCCER

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missn11 · 4 years

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Chapter two and three of The Devil’s Advocate, since chapter two is quite short, but these chapters are giving us some build up by introducing a mysterious woman luring people in a poorer neighborhood to the local abandoned church with her song. And we catch up with Liza and Owain and see how things are done in the Atlanta Camarilla court.

The song called. Antwuan made his excuses to his friends and left. They weren’t going anywhere. Nobody Antwuan knew was going anywhere. Nobody but Antwuan. His friends had always ragged on him. Except for Little Johnnie, Antwuan was the only one who’d stayed out of trouble, “kept his nose clean,” like his mama put it. Soon he would be old enough to work for his uncle Maurice driving a cab. He was going to save some money, buy his own place. The ladies would like that. He wasn’t going to spend his whole life in Reynoldstown.

I seen too many folks get shot down, or go crazy on drugs. None of Antwuan’s friends really thought they’d live much The Devil's Advocate 63 past thirty, anyhow. None except Little Johnnie, and he was just too scared to get himself killed. Antwuan liked hanging out with his friends, but he didn’t need them every night. And it wasn’t every night that the song called. The first time Antwuan had gone had been for other reasons. Taquanna had hinted that he should come, so he’d figured, play his cards right, he might get down her pants. Seemed worth a shot. Since then, though, there was no question. The song called, he was there.

The old church had always been a part of the scenery for Antwuan. It was there, he just didn’t mess with it. Nobody messed with it. The place had that feel to it, and people stayed away. Not even the up and coming gangstas congregated there. Hell, Antwuan reasoned, plenty other boarded up buildings to trash.

Lol, I think we have a title drop here with that street name!

Again as he approached, Antwuan heard the notes that floated through the night and sum- 64 Gherbod Fleming moned him. He had never heard the song before that first time, but now he heard it every time, no matter where he was. This past summer he’d been down at a Braves’ game, and even over the miles, the traffic, and the crowds he’d heard it and hopped on MARTA and gotten back as quickly as he could. There was no one else around as he walked up the cracked sidewalk into the shadows surrounding the church. But there would be others, he knew. The song would reach out to those who were aware, and many would come. Antwuan was glad he lived so close and could almost always make it. He reached for the door, the lofty, lilting notes pulling him more forcefully now. It was a prelude, as his mama called it when she made him go to their church, only this music was far more alluring than any church prelude, and the service was nothing he would expect from Preacher Rutherford. Antwuan chuckled at the thought, but immediately fell silent as he entered.

She stood at the front of the sanctuary before the toppled, graffiti-carven pulpit—the pale angel. Her skin was white as ivory, made more noticeably so by the dark black hair and straight bangs that framed her thin face, now lifted toward the heavens, eyes closed, lips slightly parted to allow forth the most enticing sound heard to man.

Place your bets on what Clan this woman is! I’m thinking at the moment a Toreador with a high level Presence.

Her voice brought them to her, held them there, not that they would want to tear themselves away. Antwuan closed his eyes, let the music ease his mind, carrying away thoughts of trouble, of his mama pestering him to get a job now instead of waiting till he was old enough to work for his uncle, of the long empty days since he’d dropped out of school, of wondering if the gunshots he heard at night would kill a member of his family or one of his friends. The daily concerns were washed away, replaced by soothing music, the closest thing to true contentment that he’d ever experienced. But even this contentment was not complete. At its heart was a tiny ache, the seed of desire, a rising need. The music did not erase this need, did not carry it away, but rather caressed it, cared for it. Now the music changed, shifted indescribably. Antwuan knew that if he opened his eyes he would see the others around him, ten or fifteen of them. He felt the familiar presence of Taquanna beside him, her shoulder inches from his. The angel still 66 Gherbod Fleming sang above them; her music reminded Antwuan of a song his grandmother used to sing to him as a little boy, but he couldn’t quite fully summon the tune to memory. Besides, that would only distract him from the pleasure at hand.

and then they dance and Antwuan has sex with Taquanna, which isn’t told in great detail, more tastefully really. Then later Antwuan feels super happy on the way home and he collapsed on his bed, sleeping until very late into the day.

Chapter three starts with Liza making her way to the art museum for the Camarilla gathering

Liza took a detour through Piedmont Park. She loved the freedom of walking the city at night by herself, something she couldn’t do as a mortal. Not only did she revel in her newfound powers, she always looked for a chance to show them off, to convince herself they were real more than to impress anyone else. Liza don’t need nobody else, she told herself quite often. She hoped somebody would give her trouble, wished that some thinks-he’stough asshole would try to mug her, or better yet, to rape her. She’d leave him with his dick stuffed down his throat. I bet ol’ Dietrich give Francesca a big hard one, Liza mused.

Probably got spikes just like on his head. The Devil's Advocate 69 Strangely enough, it was Francesca that intrigued Liza more. The way she rrrolls her rrrrs. The very thought gave Liza shivers. Maybe the two women would meet again, without Dietrich. The freak. Who knew when another Sabbat mission might bring them together again? The team had worked well enough: Liza, the Atlanta native, guiding; Dietrich helping herd their prey; Francesca giving the orders and immobilizing old what’s-his-name at the end. To Liza’s disappointment, it was a slow night in Piedmont Park. After about forty-five minutes completely unmolested—not even a nibble—she headed toward the High Museum of Art and Prince Benison’s exhibit.

The Camarilla, the vampire sect that controlled Atlanta, claimed every vampire as a member. So Liza, as an Atlanta Kindred, was automatically invited, even if Benison didn’t really want her there. Technically, she was an anarch, a rebel who didn’t acknowledge the strictures of the Camarilla, at least not all of them. But since the Camarilla claimed her, there was plenty of gray area to use as she saw fit. Liza liked gray area. Gray area meant freedom. Although if Benison, or any of the 70 Gherbod Fleming other Atlanta Kindred for that matter, found out about her Sabbat connections, that would be the end of freedom, not to mention her life. She’d be staked, or beheaded, or left out for the sun, or all three.

And we get our first look of who’s who of the Atlanta Camarilla court at the gathering.

Occasionally, Benison had midnight prayer breakfasts at Rhodes Hall, his mansion just a bit down Peachtree Street. Liza avoided those like the plague. No way was she going to go listen to the crazy Malkavian prince spout scripture, pretending that God still cared about the Damned. Liza the The Devil's Advocate 71 anarch had that freedom. She could skip out on any gathering she felt like. Not so for these other Kindred. Stupid bastards. Prince Benison frowned on subjects missing his courtly functions. That was another reason to attend this relatively painless exhibit: to rub it in the others’ faces that she didn’t have to be there.

And they were all there all right, Liza noticed: Eleanor, the prince’s snobby bitch wife wearing her poofy Gone With the Wind dress; Benjamin and Thelonious, resident legal eagle and Mr. Civil Rights, brothers who bought into the white folks’ world; Owain Evans, the youthful and good-looking but boring-ass businessman; Hannah, the local Tremere grand wizard or whatever; Marlene, artist wannabe, porn queen more likely. There were others too, but Liza was distracted by the sight of Alex Horndiller, Benison’s righthand ghoul, leading two young men, mortals, toward the center of the gallery. She strutted over to them, her black tights drawing quite a few stares amidst the formal evening wear crowd.

Liza causes a stir when she feeds on two of the ghouls before the Prince has a chance for the first sip.

She slapped the ghoul on the shoulder, hard enough that he almost stumbled. “Corndicker, what you got for me?” Without another word, Liza took the forearm of the first young man, tall, blond, maybe in his early twenties, and sank her teeth in. He flinched only slightly; the collective gasp that arose was from the onlookers. Liza tried not to 72 Gherbod Fleming laugh—she hated when blood ran out her nose— but it was so like the courtly Kindred to be shocked…like she knew they would be. The two men were the refreshments for the evening, common vessels, but of course the prince should have enjoyed the ceremonious first sip. Liza wasn’t hungry, not after feeding on that vampire sap with Francesca and the Elephant Man, but this was almost as much fun as ripping apart muggers in the park would have been. She let go of the first man and grinned at the irate Horndiller, red splotches forming on his face. “Not bad,” she said as she winked and pinched the blond vessel’s ass. “And I like the Dixie cup.” Before Horndiller could form his indignant sputterings into words, Liza sank her teeth into the second man, stockier and more darkly complected than his counterpart.

She had drunk only a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Corndicker’s got more balls than I…but before she could finish the thought, she was spun roughly around, and to her shock, it was not Horndiller who held her. Instead, it was J. Benison Hodge, prince of Atlanta. Liza stumbled backward in surprise, but the prince’s iron grip held her upright, his fingers pressing down to the bone of her shoulder. He towered above her, his massive dark red beard inches from her face, his green eyes ablaze with more anger than Liza had ever seen in them.

She tried to speak but The Devil's Advocate 73 could only wince at the pain as he squeezed her shoulder more tightly. The prince spoke in a low, throaty growl. “I offer hospitality, and you mock it.” The words were meant for her, but Hodge’s forceful baritone easily carried across the chamber to the onlooking Kindred, about whom Liza had very nearly forgotten. The prince released her shoulder and quickly drew back his hand to strike her backhanded across the face…but he stopped, spotless white glove raised, arm trembling with rage. His stiffened jaw forced his beard forward. “I will not tolerate this.”

Liza could do nothing but cringe at this awesome display of barely controlled ferocity. One swipe of his gloved fist would likely crush every bone in her face. She suddenly felt very young and weak and small confronted with this force of nature that was the prince. Benison took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Just as slowly, he lowered his arm. Not for one moment did his severe gaze release Liza from scrutiny. “For one year and one night, I do not want to see you, I do not want to so much as hear report of your name.” A savage, psychotic glint flashed across the prince’s fiery green eyes, as if he wanted to end it now, as if he wanted nothing more than to strike her down this instant for her affront to his honor, but the brief wavering passed, and though his wrath was undiminished, restraint held the day. “If I do, 74 Gherbod Fleming you will find final death.” The prince turned his back to her. “Begone.” It took Liza a second to realize that she had not been struck down, that he had not snapped her neck as surely he could have. She swallowed her wounded pride and slunk away

Then we switch over to Owain’s POV, who’s still thinking about the chess game he lost.

Owain probably had never been to a courtly function in a fouler mood. Three hundred years of strategy and planning abruptly catapulted to hell, he kept telling himself. It was not a misfortune he could lightly set aside and forget. How? How could it happen? Overconfidence? Carelessness? The art exhibit was hardly a sufficient distraction. At least it’s not one of those damnable prayer breakfasts. Prince Benison, through his contacts on the board of the High Museum, had commandeered this gallery to show the artwork of one of the Atlanta Kindred, Marlene. Marlene fancied herself something of a sculptor, and though she was Toreador, Owain did not feel that the term “art” accurately described her accomplishments. Apparently ceramics or clay were too subtle media; Marlene had taken to welding together various shapes and sizes of scrap metal and then attaching somewhat grandiose titles to the resulting monstrosities. What her work lacked in vision it certainly made up in magnitude. No mantlepiece The Devil's Advocate 75 collectibles in this portfolio.

Not a big lover of modern art is he? XD

As usual at these functions, Owain attempted to stay out of the way. There was much more to be learned from watching and listening than from taking a lead in most endeavors, a fact that Owain had learned well over his centuries of vampiric existence. And one that anarch rabble would do well to learn, Owain thought as Liza was shown the door. Her little outburst had been entertaining. Owain had to admit that, although he had been quite guarded in not displaying his amusement at the spectacle. She won’t live long confronting a prince that way. Owain was surprised by her brazen recklessness, her stupidity. There are more efficient ways to undermine a princes’ position, subtler ways, safer ways. Owain could only wonder if the prince’s treatment of her might have been more irreversibly detrimental had she had time to actually insult the “artwork.”

At the time of Liza’s little scene, Owain had been standing to a side of the room, near the Tremere chantry leader, reclusive Hannah. He was close enough that most passersby, assuming that he and Hannah were merely pausing in conversation, continued on without disturbing him, but not so close that he actually had to speak to the Tremere. Owain suspected that Hannah appreciated the arrangement as well, she not being one of the more socially ambitious Kindred in the city. For the most 76 Gherbod Fleming part, the only people who expressed more than the most passing of interests in speaking to Hannah were her Tremere lessers from the chantry. Several attempted to toady but quickly retreated having received nothing but coldly polite and formal responses

Owain also noticed that Chantry Mistress Hannah’s reaction to the anarch-prince confrontation was as muted as his own, only a slight wrinkling of her nose indicating her distaste. Owain himself was not a stickler for manners. Over the years he had come to see their value as a stabilizing factor in both mortal and Kindred affairs. He was not offended by the “affront to the prince’s honor.” Rather he was dismayed by the anarch’s idiocy. Owain shook his head thinking of her misguided actions. She wanted to embarrass him, to damage his reputation.

But Hodge came out looking stronger than ever, and now she’s banished for a year and a night. Owain laughed to himself. A nice touch that—a year and a night. Hodge does have a flair for the dramatic. The duration of the punishment was a clear echo of the length of Arthurian quests—a year and a day. Owain was particularly enamored with the legends, as many of the earliest were of Welsh origin. It was clear to Owain that the prince saw himself as some type of crusading knight, protector of moral fortitude. It fit all too perfectly with the prince’s other derangements.

No, Owain was not offended by Liza’s little show, unlike many of the other gathered Kindred who bought so completely into the aura of southern gentility that Hodge, his wife Eleanor, and his sire Aunt Bedelia so convincingly affected. To Owain etiquette was a means, not an end unto itself. It was sometimes the only keeper of civility between enemies, and more importantly it was a veil behind which to work deceit. That line of thought reminded Owain that there was business to be conducted this evening. Mostly he was biding his time, making sure to stay long enough not to insult the prince, but not so long as to seem to be attempting to ingratiate himself. Almost no vampire, Owain felt, was worth the time of a social engagement, and very few mortals or ghouls. But if he had to be here, he might as well get something accomplished.

Then Owain tends to some business but first he has a brief encounter with the Prince’s sire, Aunt Bedelia.

He scanned the room until he saw Benjamin, a fellow Ventrue but hardly a friend. As he moved to leave his safe haven near Hannah, however, Owain nearly stumbled over Aunt Bedelia in her antique wheelchair being ushered around the gallery by her childe the prince. “Goodness, J. Benison. Someone has stepped on me,” Aunt Bedelia chittered shrilly. “Who is that?” She squinted up through her half-moon spectacles in Owain’s general direction. Her heavy wool dress swallowed her frail form. “My apologies, Mother,” muttered the prince, 78 Gherbod Fleming gracious and mild-mannered now that civility was restored to the gathering. “This is Owain Evans.” Owain smiled dutifully. “Never heard of him.” “Of course you have, Mother,” Benison patiently reminded her. “He came from Europe during the Great War. He’s from Wales originally. He…” “Never heard of him,” Bedelia snapped, testily this time.

The prince lowered his head and sighed. “Of course you haven’t, mother. Mother, I present to you Owain Evans, Ventrue of King Road, Atlanta. Mr. Evans, my sire Aunt Bedelia.” Bedelia held her left hand before her. Owain, standing to her right, glanced at the prince who was watching him expectantly, so he stepped around her, delicately took her hand, and kissed it. “The pleasure is all mine, Aunt Bedelia.” “Charmed, I’m sure.” Bedelia smiled sweetly, quite content now that she had been paid the proper respect; so content, in fact, that she had apparently fallen instantly asleep, her eyes closed now instead of squinted. She began to snore quietly.

Benison was smiling broadly. “Always good to see you, Owain. Mother and I couldn’t be happier that you made it this evening. Enjoying the artwork?” Before Owain could answer, the prince glanced off to his left. “No, I don’t think we need to send any- The Devil's Advocate 79 one to follow her,” he said, answering a question that no one had asked. Then, without missing a beat, he was smiling at Owain again. Owain hesitated. This peculiar behavior was nothing new for Benison.

The prince waited a moment. “The artwork?” he asked again. “Oh yes,” Owain assured him. “I’ve seen nothing like it elsewhere.” Benison cuffed Owain on the shoulder and laughed heartily. “Good, good. Of course you haven’t. Our little Marlene is quite the artist.” “She is something,” Owain agreed. He wondered what else Marlene was to the prince that she should merit such patronage. Owain had it on good authority that the prince’s wife was no paragon of fidelity. Perhaps the indiscretion was reciprocated. Though few vampires retained any type of sexual desire, there were always other…displays of affection that a spouse might guard jealously. “Well, Mother and I must attend the other guests,” said the prince. “Always good to see you, Owain. Enjoy the exhibit.”

At this, Bedelia perked up. Her gentle snoring ceased abruptly as she blinked herself awake. She squinted up at Owain as if she had just asked him a question and was expecting an answer. Owain, nodding respectfully at the prince, saw that Bedelia was still watching him expectantly. “A 80 Gherbod Fleming pleasure to see you, madame,” he offered. She continued staring at him, as if oblivious to his statement. “Have we met, young man?” Benison broke in quickly, “Well, Mother, here’s your favorite bridge partner, Hannah,” as he wheeled her away. “J. Benison, why didn’t you introduce us?” Bedelia was asking, but the prince continued on their way, greeting Hannah with great enthusiasm and seeming not to hear the protestations of his sire.

Owain gratefully slipped away. He always had gotten on fairly well with the prince. Both were warriors and, even though their wars were of different eras, there was a certain camaraderie in that. Aunt Bedelia was a different matter. Owain was sure her “forgetfulness” was merely an intended slight, a game meant to lessen him somehow. He shrugged off the encounter. Let the old hag pretend she doesn’t know me. I’d rather continue advising the prince than have her approval. Now where has Benjamin gotten to? Must have slipped into a side gallery.

He also skirted the main work of the exhibit, a behemoth of a piece consisting of three major chunks of curved and twisted metal The Devil's Advocate 81 with numerous smaller additions, suspended in its entirity from the ceiling by chains. It was a work Marlene had crafted several years ago titled “Benison’s Ride,” in honor of the prince’s purging of the Atlanta area of those anarchs and caitiffs who had not paid him the respect of announcing their presence to the court. Benison was quite fond of the piece and arranged for public viewings periodically for the edification of the Kindred in his domain. A vociferous Brujah had surmised that the sculpture was actually a representation of a whale spewing forth a Volkswagon. The prince felt otherwise. That particular Brujah no longer resided in Atlanta. Other colorful yet more discreet speculations had included but not been limited to: a severely disfigured head wearing a propeller hat, three falcons fornicating, and a ballet dancer engaged in projectile vomiting. At the original unveiling, Owain had limited his response to polite applause.

Finally Owain finds Benjamin with the Prince’s wife Eleanor.

Benjamin, an African-American dandy with his impeccable Brooks Brothers suit, tidy short-cropped hair, and wirerimmed glasses, was relatively young in his undeath but there was power in his blood. Next to the prince’s wife Eleanor, he was ostensibly the most influential Ventrue in Atlanta. Owain tended to keep his distance from clan politics; he’d been there too many times before. The fewer everyday entanglements the better, he felt. Both Benjamin and Eleanor, however, held this detachment against Owain and regarded him with suspicion. If they only knew how much older and more powerful he was than they, they would fear him as well.

“Benjamin, we must speak,” Owain said as he approached. A young female, whose name escaped Owain at the moment, edged away from Benjamin with only a glare at Owain, a grudging display of deference to the elder. Benjamin frowned, the expression causing his glasses to slide down his nose. “Yes, Owain, how The Devil's Advocate 83 may I be of service?” he asked in a cool formal tone. Benjamin’s slight but noticable English accent always amused Owain. True, the young lawyer had studied for several years at Oxford, but after more than fifteen years back in the States such an acquired accent would normally have faded. Unless, of course, the bearer consciously chose to maintain it as an affectation, a vanity. Owain, after living in Wales, London, France, Spain, and now Atlanta, had studied language and made a concerted effort to acquire an almost accentless English that raised no eyebrows. Speech patterns could give all too much away about a person. Even his current name, “Owain Evans,” was a concession to the need to remain unobtrusive and seemed choppy and harsh in comparison to his original “Owain ap Ieuan.” “Owain?” Benjamin’s voice snapped Owain out of his woolgathering, a bad habit and one he’d been succumbing to increasingly of late. “How may I help you?”

Owain edged closer to his fellow Ventrue and spoke in a low voice that would not be overheard by the other Kindred milling about. “I need a favor, a simple thing really.” Benjamin regarded Owain skeptically but said nothing. “There is a certain case,” Owain continued, “that will be heard this week by Justice Chamberlain of the Superior Court. You know Justice Chamberlain?” Benjamin shrugged noncommittally as he pushed 84 Gherbod Fleming his glasses back up. “He’s an acquaintance.” “Ah. How fortunate. You see, this particular case involves a zoning dispute. Mercator Manufacturing has bought property near downtown with the intention of constructing a regional distribution center. Unfortunately, certain rather reactionary individuals, most notably the Citizens Empowerment Union, have taken it into their heads that such a project would not be a desirable addition to the area. Never mind the jobs it would bring. Never mind the investment in surrounding neighborhoods….” “Never mind,” Benjamin interrupted, unable to hold his tongue any longer, “that the jobs would be non-union minimum wage, or that the people would be working for an international corporation with a history of closing shop when standards of living rise to a point where workers demand raises, then relocating to centers of cheap foreign labor.”

Despite Benjamin’s refusal, since the whole thing is just basically wage slavery, Owain blackmails him into agreeing since he knows about his relationship with the Prince’s wife Eleanor.

He loves Eleanor too deeply to harm her, but you…? I don’t think he would exercise such restraint in dealing with you.” 86 Gherbod Fleming A polite smile masked the venom of Owain’s words to any who might be watching. Owain stepped back. Benjamin could not hide his dismay, his shock, his fear. His every muscle was taut; his glasses slid down his nose again. “Now that I think of it,” Owain went on, “not only will Chamberlain uphold the rezoning, but the Georgia Supreme Court will refuse to hear the appeal.” He winked at the still speechless Benjamin. “I’ll be in touch.” Owain turned and left the side gallery laughing to himself at the expression on young Benjamin’s face. That should teach him some respect for his elders.

Yikes, Owain! But we knew that anyway,from when he killed his niece in las and her children. After being a really huge dick, Owain walks back to the main gallery and sees a wild scene unfolding.

Just as Owain entered the main gallery, a cacophony of gasps, exclamations, and laughter errupted. Owain saw why instantly. Atop “Benison’s Ride” perched Albert, the wiry, bearded Malkavian known to all Kindred in Atlanta. Completely naked. “On, Dasher! On, Dancer!” He rocked back and forth, in his own way reenacting the prince’s heroic ride as the massive metal sculpture wobbled precariously beneath him. Marlene, the self-proclaimed artist, had fainted dead away. The prince, doting over Aunt Bedelia at the other end of the gallery, his back turned, was quite oblivious to the evening’s second spectacle behind him. That was as much as Owain cared to see. He nonchalantly eased around the room—the oppo- The Devil's Advocate 87 site end from the prince—toward the elevator. Several Kindred were ordering Albert to dismount, but they were unwilling to risk breaking the sculpture by pulling him from his seat. As the elevator doors closed behind Owain, he could hear Albert singing, “Rollin’ rollin’ rollin, keep them dogs a-rollin’!” at the top of his lungs, the sculpted representation of the prince towering upward between his hairy legs like a giant scrap metal phallus. And then dead silence. Owain could picture the prince turning around. “Albert!”

#vampire the masquerade #The Trilogy of the Blood Curse #The Devil's Advocate #books #my reading blogging

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sian265 · 6 years

Text

Whispers

This Shadow World is a little different. Valentine stayed dead. Clary was brought into the ShadowWorld on her 18th Birthday after demons attacked her and Jocelyn. Alec was appointed Head of the Institute and Robert & Maryse did divorce with Maryse staying behind to raise Max and be Alec’s second in command. She has just started dating Luke. And of yes, Magnus hasn’t met Alec…yet.

Whispers

Chapter One

Alec and Jace stood over the bed. The dead wolf was lying there, no visible wounds, blood, or obvious cause of death. The girl/wolf looked eerily similar to the other three dead bodies that had turned up over the past month. This made the second DownWorlder, the first two victims had been mundane.

The scene had Alec shifting uncomfortably. The young female was nude, a sheet only partially covering her, and spread-eagle on the bed. Her eyes, like the other victims, were wide open, a look of shock and horror forever captured on her face.

Alec looked over at Luke. “I am so sorry, Luke. What was her name?”

Luke rubbed a hand across his weary face. “Gretel, she was a pain in my ass, but she didn’t deserve this.”

Alec nodded and looked back down at their victim. He had not been brought in on the first two cases. The normal mundane police were handling them. However, when a dead Seelie had turned up and Luke noticed the similarities he brought in the Shadowhunters. The Seelie had been male, but found just like Gretel, nude, in bed, eyes wide open. Izzy was still stumped on a cause of death. Their four victims had no connections between them, were different sexes, races, and had no obvious cause of foul play. The mystery had Izzy scratching her head, and that more than anything worried Alec. Because if she couldn’t figure this out then no one could.

The only thing she had been able to report was that their internal organs seemed somewhat shrunk, almost drained in some way, but Isabelle wasn’t able to say why or how.

Alec looked once more at Luke. “Can we take her to the institute; let Izzy see what she can find?”

Luke nodded. “I’ll go with you. I managed to acquire a copy of the autopsy reports on the two mundane victims to share with her.”

That Luke would feel confident and comfortable enough to go into the New York Institute and be assured of his admission and welcome, spoke volumes of Alec’s leadership. With his parents’ divorce, Robert staying full time in Idris and Maryse supporting her son, Alec had assumed command when he turned 21. His leadership style was similar to his parents in some ways, but radically different in others.

Alec was strict, stern, he expected everyone to carry his or her weight. However, one of the first moves he made was the establishment of a DownWorlder Council. He sat about meeting and creating a relationship with all the New York leaders. For the most part, it was successful. He could never tell if the head of the local vampires liked him or not. Raphael Santiago was a hard bastard to get to know, hardly ever cracked a smile and could be a huge smartass, but at least he came to the meetings.

Now, Lorenzo Rey, High Warlock of Brooklyn, was another story all-together. Alec didn’t think he had ever met a bigger blow-hard than Rey and that was saying something considering the politicians from Idris he knew! Rey loved to hear himself talk, and had a tale for every situation, but Alec had yet to see him actually accomplish anything. He wasn’t sure why or how Rey became High Warlock, but Alec suspected there was no one else who wanted the job.

Isabelle pulled back the sheet and let out a small gasp. Alec looked at his sister sharply. “You knew her, Izzy?”

Izzy glanced at Luke, apology in her gaze. “Not really, but I had seen her before, several times in fact at some of the same clubs. I am so sorry, Luke.”

Luke gave Izzy a thankful smile and nodded. “At clubs? Do you remember which ones?” He asked her.

Alec watched as Izzy gently covered Gretel’s face back up with the sheet. “One of the places was Pandemonium, another was Whisper’s.” She replied.

Luke nodded. “I have heard of both clubs. Nothing sticks out about them; both are very popular places especially with DownWorlders.” Luke handed Izzy the files he had carried in. “Isabelle, these are the findings on the two mundanes, hopefully you can see something that will help us find this killer.”

Alec didn’t have anything to add on the club scene, wasn’t his cup of tea. He and Luke both watched as Izzy quickly went through the mundane autopsy findings. She closed them after only a few minutes of review.

“Nothing new or surprising in them. I had hoped that maybe they would shock me and come up with something I missed.” Izzy shrugged at them, completely unapologetic in her well-deserved arrogance. Alec’s sister was crazy smart, he knew.

Both Luke and Izzy looked at him, and with a sigh, Alec gave in. “Okay, I will call the High Warlock for consult, but I am warning you both now if he hits on me again, I am slugging him.” For some reason Lorenzo Rey had taken into his head to flirt with Alec whenever their paths crossed. The weird thing was Alec was almost positive Rey was not even gay! Alec had come out of the Shadow closet, if you will, when his father tried to arrange a marriage for him, with a girl. Lydia was a great friend, but Alec wasn’t marrying a woman, not even to please his father and after the divorce he was even more inclined to do the opposite of what Robert Lightwood wanted.

He walked Luke out still bitching about Rey. “You know he is going to charge us an arm and a leg and I bet not tell us anything we don’t already know!” Alec didn’t get any sympathy from Luke, in fact the werewolf just laughed at him.

“Tell Clary to call me, Alec.” Luke called back over his shoulder as Alec left him to depart from the ops enter. Alec waived his acknowledgment and headed for his office, and his phone.

The call to Rey went about as Alec expected. Rey went on and on about how busy he was and how much an imposition the request was. Finally, after naming an outrageous fee and being talked down from that, Rey agreed to come right away and assess their victims. Alec glared at his phone for a good ten minutes after hanging up. Besides his family, Parabatai, and just a few close friends, Alec didn’t really like people, especially pompous asses like Rey. He texted Izzy that Rey agreed and to call him when the Warlock arrived, then Alec began the task of going through the stacks of paperwork that awaited him on his desk.

The ding of his phone pulled Alec away from the files in front of him; he groaned at Izzy’s text, Rey had arrived. Alec was stopped a couple of times with questions and to sign off on various things before finally stepping into the room where Izzy, Rey, and the dead wolf waited. He plastered a fake ass smile on his face and held a hand out in welcome to Lorenzo.

“Mr. Rey, thank you for coming, we appreciate it.” Alec made sure to keep his handshake as brief as possible, he always felt like washing his hands after touching Rey.

Lorenzo’s smile grew as he turned to Alec. “Always a pleasure to assist the New York Institute, Mr. Lightwood.”

Too bad Alec didn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth. “Well, we do appreciate it, Mr. Rey. Now, knowing how busy you are, how about we get to the examination?” Alec gestured for Lorenzo to proceed him towards the body.

Izzy rolled her eyes at Alec as Rey turned to view the deceased. Alec shook his head at his sister’s antics before Rey turned back to them both.

“If you don’t mind, I would prefer to conduct my examination alone.” Rey’s smile was condescending. “Don’t want any foreign energies interfering with my magic, I’m sure you both understand?”

Alec looked to Izzy for her okay, since the lab and all forensics were her domain. Izzy nodded. “It’s okay, I have collected any trace evidence that was still on the body,” she assured Alec and they moved past the plastic curtain to give Rey some privacy.

Alec watched as closely as possible through the distorted curtain as Rey examined the body, his light blue magic starting at Gretel’s head and moving down as he tried to determine if magic had anything to do with her death. It did not take long before Lorenzo was calling them back into the room.

“There is magic here, but I cannot tell you more than that.” Rey stated as soon as Alec and Izzy parted the curtain. “I have not seen magic like this for a very long time and there is only a faint trace of it left.”

Alec frowned. “So, you can’t tell us if this magic played any role in her death?” He looked at Isabelle. “The Seelie’s body has been returned to the Fey?” Izzy nodded and Alec sighed with frustration, they were getting nowhere!

“Magic did play a role in her death, Mr. Lightwood.” Rey interjected. “However, its specific actions on the body I cannot say and it is very dark magic, something I do not dabble in.”

“Any ideas on who does, Mr. Rey?” Alec highly doubted most of what Rey claimed but unless he was their killer, he didn’t have a reason to lie or hold back from them.

Lorenzo looked at Alec and Izzy for several moments before speaking. “I might have a name to give you, but I must ask for your word that your source will not be revealed. This person is someone I try to avoid at all costs and he already has a grudge against me; even more ammo could lead to hostilities escalating between us.”

Alec shook his head. “Absolutely, we will keep your name out of it.”

Rey moved towards the door and turned back right before leaving. “Magnus Bane is who you are looking for, Mr. Lightwood.”

TBC…

#malec fanfiction #au #Magnus x Alec

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randomfanficlounge-blog · 6 years

Text

Overnight Watch Aftermath

A/N: Back again with another short story! This was obviously inspired by the steam that was made recently. (Damnit Seán and everyone. >:U Staying up to watch the over night watch! Love the creativity that went into though. So congrats you guys!) Surprisingly, its not a novelization but an aftermath of the stream. Seriously, I enjoyed the 'Jacksepticeye Christmas Special' and the 'Over Night Watch' streams Jack, Robin and everyone put together. Thank you both! In this, I want to keep to how Anti is dark, cruel and twisted. As fun as it is to think of him in a romantic figure for lolz… it does water down the character's spark of life. I mean, I can't tell you can't do it but that's just me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warning: This might break a few hearts and hit hard. Might. But please keep in mind that is this not my view of the community that I love. But its for the sake of the fic.

*~*~*~*~*~*~* Everyone waved at the camera, thanking everyone that donated and showed up at the Christmas Special stream. Once the connection was cut and the camera was off, the group let out a collective sigh of relief and happiness. They worked really hard for this stream to happen and they were all glowing with pride and joy over their work. They really hoped the community had a lot of fun with it. Jack glanced at the donation bar that marked how much was raised that day. They reached the goal yesterday, but it wasn't the case for today. Still they'll leave it open to reach that for those that missed the stream. Either way, the amount was for a good cause. Only now that fun and games and spotlight was over… It was clean up time. “Polaris would kill us if we left their place a mess.” Robin pointed out as the others all pretended to groan and cry in despair over the very idea of clean up. The editor watched them with a flat expression as they dramatically fell to their knees then onto the floor in fake death; he vaguely remembered Jack voicing his contempt for cleaning in one video last year. Whether they wanted to or not, it was something they had to do as guests to the studio. His expression remained on his face when the room went silent, the group still laying on the floor in a variety of poses. “Are you guys done dying yet? We need to sweep the floor.” Emma's arm shot up. “I'll get the brooms~!” She yelled, springing up from her spot on carpet, Wiishu popping up next to volunteer to help her gather the brooms. The boys, Ethan and PJ rolled to their feet, declaring to get a couple of boxes to pack away anything that was unnecessary to leave that they used. The group chattered amongst themselves as they left to gather the supplies for the clean up. Jack remained on the floor, humming to himself. Wiishu popped her head through the doorway, looking at him. “You coming, Seán?” He whined, lifting an arm and waving it tiredly. “But I hate cleaning-!” “Seááánnn~” “I'll come in a little bit.” Jack squirmed on the floor as if to get comfortable, then cracked the grin. “Right now I'm making sure the carpet doesn't escape.” She lifted a brow, smiling. “Mhm~” “What is that lazy ass doing?!” PJ called from the hall, realizing that Wiishu was at the door to the room. She giggled and called back. “He's making sure the carpet doesn't run away.” “ITS CARPET! IT DOESN'T HAVE LEGS!” “Magic carpet.” Jack answered automatically with a mischievous smile as Wiishu turned to look at him. She rolled her eyes. Honestly what will she do about this man she loved? “He says its a magic carpet!” “BULL! SHIT!” The youtuber waved her hand at PJ, “He said he'll help in a little bit.” “Fine… totally going to enjoy his punishment tweet for losing.” “Alright love birds, the carpet ain't gonna sweep itself.” Robin called, “Let him roll around in the stuffing if he wants. He's the one stuck having to clean that up.” “Boys.” Wiishu giggled, shaking her head at the friends that bantered at each other. “Alright, we'll see you in a bit, Seán. And don't mess up that jumper!” “See you in a bit, my Woosher.” Jack cooed then grinned at her, “And I won't. Promise.” She giggled, blushing a little under the nickname he used, blowing him a kiss before turning and leaving again, closing the door behind her. And Jack was left alone. His eyes flashed a jet black, the grin turning more to a scowl. *~*~*~*~*~*~* “̕A̴bo͢ut ̵da-̨d̸amn ̀t͝im̡e͡.̵.̶.” Anti grumbled, glad for the moment of peace with the group gone. The stream had gone on long enough in his opinion and he didn't feel pleased in having to spend more time pretending to be Jack. However, despite his grumpiness toward his host's friends and the desire to stab them all just to please himself… he did feel satisfied with the work he put up last night. “E͠he̡ḩeh̷e~̶!͜”̸ He giggled, the sound echoing softly in his mind, leaving the hijacked body to rest comfortably on the floor and hum some nonsensical song. Behind him, in the back of his mind were two figures strung up in chains. Henrik was injured, shaking from pain and wincing at the cuts that riddled his body. The other was the healthier looking of the two but glared at Anti's back with bright blue eyes that seethed in rage. “H̕at̕e ̷y͜o͡u͟r ̀f-͘frien̡d̶s, but I̛ mu͟s̴t şa̴y it wa͜s͝ ra-ra҉t̀h͠er… a͞mus̸ìn̡g ̸to ̨do̸.̧”̕ Jack growled. “C҉are̛fuĺ,͢ L͘u̡c͜ky ͝Cha̧r̴m̷s̨…͟ ̕you͘'́ll̕ ̧g̢et ̷yo͜ur̕ ̡f̕ace s-͜s͡tu̶çk͏ ͞th̸at̴ wa͞y.̢” Another growl. The entity rolled his eyes at the defiant will of his host. “O̵h̵ ģi̕ve ͝it ̨a res͘t.͝ ̨W͞hat͜ ar͞e̕ ̢yo̶u? À ̡d͜o̧g?” He grumbled to himself as he toyed with his signature knife, ignoring another growl thrown his way. “R̨-̀ri͜gh͟t.͢ D҉ơg it́ is͠.͝ ̨B̧a̴rk ̡ba͠rk͘,̀ ̨m͘o̡th̨èr ́f̢uck̨e̵r̴.”͝ Anti paced a little and literally felt the burning glare that tracked his movements. He grinned, enjoying that victory as he twirled the knife between his fingers with expertise. Not only has he fooled the community, but was easily fooling Jack's closest friends, and was hunting down his egos for laughs. Hijacked a stream that Jack had been wanting to do for so long to add to the list of things gone wrong. Hell, he stole the youtuber's very life from him for more than a year in front of his very eyes. The entity was the very reason the Irishman was angry. And Anti loved every second of it. “̕So͡…̶ How̵ d͝i͢d͏ ̶y͡ou ͞li͟k͏e ţh̛e sh͟-s̢h̡ow?”̶ he asked innocently, batting his eyes while his smile the very opposite of his tone. “You son of a bitch...” “̷A͡h̛-͞a͝h͏,̛ J͟ack͟~”̛ Anti clicked his tongue, wagging the knife in his direction in a chiding manner as he turned on his heel to face the captives. “͏That's ́ńot ̴ver̷y ̶níc͢e f̕o̧r ͢som͠eo̶ne̕ wh͡o̡'̸s ͏s̵up̷p҉os͞e ͜t̀o͘ b̢ę oh̷ ͠s͟o in̶t̸ò th̢e h̛o͝l̶íd͡ay c̵h͠e̢eŗ~.̸”̵ The dark entity chuckled as Jack ground his teeth in anger at the taunt. “K-ķée̶p̡ t̕hat up͡ an͠d ͢yòu͡'͡l͞l̛ w-͞win̕d͡ up͟ i͜n̸ the͝ n͢aug̡h̨ty ̕li҉s̡t.͏” “Right now I could careless what list I'm on.” The Irish Youtuber growled, straining against the chains that held him fast. “Just keep my friends out of this. This is between you and me and no one else.” “͜You ͝are cor͡re̕ct,̕ s͞ir!” Anti laughed, having waved the knife to emphasis his agreement with lighter counterpart. His smile split his face almost demonically so as he stared at Jack straight in the eye. “B͞ut t́hat'̴s̵ ̧n͏ot ͞w-w͠h̨a̵t ̀yo͘u're ręal͢ly a̡n-͟a͡n͜gry͞ ͢ab͝o͠ut͟, n̡ow ́i̷s-͢s it̵?”̕ Jack paused and blinked, thrown off guard by the comment then glared again. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course, its the reason I'm pissed off enough to want to punch your teeth through the back your skull!” He snarled, straining against his chains, “You're dragging those I care about and innocent people into a fight that's not meant for them. Why else would I be this angry!?” The entity gave a slow blink, the smile never wavering. “E̕eh̸heeh̷ee… H̀ah́aha͞…͜”̛ The entity laughed, leaning dangerously close to Jack's face, blue eyes staring into blue eyes. The smile on his face grew wider. “M͢ ҉e͠ e h͏ a͜ h̛ a h̀ ̵ą ̛h̶ a~̀!” His wild grin died down a little as his expression turned smug. “W͜-wo̕w…͏ y͏ou̵'ŕé r͏eallý ̛going ͠to̴ ke-́keep͠ d-͞den̨y̕iņg i̧t̕ ̸h͞ùh?̕ G̷-got̢ta̸ ̷ha͡ve m҉-̕me̕ ͏sp͝e͜l̡l i͜t ͏o͘út f̧or ̷ya̴-à?”̡ “Anti...” The Irishman hissed, the tone was angry but Anti detected that slight hint of curiosity. He kept smug smile as he chuckled to himself. Oh-ho~! Look at that. Despite the Youtuber's hissing of defiance, he was actually quite curious of what the entity was trying to get that. Well, he couldn't think of him much better than anyone else. After all, humans are quite the strange bunch. 'Humans are truly weak… so weak you can see things they try to hide so easily~' Anti chuckled again, enjoying this little moment a bit more. Henrik stirred, opening his eyes a crack from where he was strung up by the chains that held him captive. “N-noh… Jack… Jack don-don't… listen… to him...” The smug expression went flat as Anti's gaze slid slowly away from Jack and settled on the doctor. The smile he wore was dead yet sharp, and his blue eyes were ice cold. The chains responded to his thoughts and tightened around the German doctor's limbs and chest. Henrik gasped and grimaced in pain, bearing it as best he could. “C̵an̡'͡t ͞yo̶u śee I̴'͘m tal͘k̢ing ͡t̀o҉ ̕Jack̸ ͡h̷e͏ŕe, ͝good͠ d-doc̵t͘or̡?͢ D́ò ҉you͏ ͏k͠-̕kno҉w h̵ow ŕ-͠ru͏d͝e̷ ͏i̢t̵ is to i͢nte͟r͘r̴u̡pt ͜a pr̸i̴-pr͠iv͠a̷t̴e con͞versàtiǫn?”҉ A chain squeezed hard… something popped. Henrik flinched. “͢Now…͝ I've ̴b͏ee͜n v͘e͝ry pati͘ent̴ ląt̛e͏l͏y̧.” Anti growled darkly, “͞On͜e ́ot̨he̴r e-͡eg̴o i̶s ̨al͠re̶ad̨y ҉o͏n͝ th͏e͝ ̀ch͢-̶c͞hópp͘ing̵ ̡b́lơc̷k͜ and ́y͠et he͝'͜s st̢i̸ll free…͝ unle̡ss yo͠u ͡e̛xtre͢m͡ely ̡e̡ager͡ to ̨s͡e͟e̶ them s̢t̴ru͜n͠g u͏p ͞nex͏t̸ ̡y-yo҉ù, yo͢u̕ u͡se̢l̢ess̛ ͢q͟u͝ack...͟ ” His eyes flashed to the all consuming black as he gave the persona a predatory stare. “̧Then ̧y̛o̸u bette͘r̷ shút t̡h͢e͝ fu̶ck͞ ̴up͏ ͏ove̴r̶ t̡he̴re͝.” Dr.Schneeplestein went quiet under the entity's withering glare, but he did give the Youtuber a pleading look before looking away to leave them be. Anti smiled at the submissive attitude. “̶G̨ood͜ ̕boy.͡” The chains relaxed their grip a little to let the doctor feel some relief for the moment. Anti turned his attention back to Jack, who glared at him for his torturous method of keeping one of his personas quiet. “Anti, you're-” “S̀-̸s͡ic̸k? D̵e̶m̸ente͏d?͝ ̛T͢w͞i͏ste͘d҉ a͠nd ̡i͡n̛-͏i̵ns͜a̴n͢e? Wh҉ỳ ye͜s, ye̢s̀ I̸ ̢am͏.̸ Are͟n'́t̸ ͏y͏ou t̸he cle̶ve̕ŗ b-b͠o̢y?”͡ Anti's grin was smug once more. “G̵l̡ad͜ t́o ̛he͘ar ̛it b̴u̢t́ r͘i͢g̡ht̶ n̸o͞w, Ja̴ck͟a͜bo̷y͟… it͜ś no͝t ̴ḿe ̴yo̴u ̷sh͏ơul̨d f̡o̷cu͢s on̸.̴” “N͡o̡w͏ a̶b͏o̸út̀ ̧whát̴ ̨I̢ wa͜s goíng͢ ͡t͟o͝ say.̛..͘” He giggled, “Y͟ou̸ w̸a͝n̛te͝d t̕o ͢kno̴w͘ ͞ẃh̵y y͜o͢u s̛hóu͡ld̶ ͞fèel͠ ̡ang̶ry͞ at ̴th̸ìs ̨mome̛n͟t̷ ̶b̷ųt̢ n̛ot a̸t ̨me, r̕i͘ght?̴” He leaned in close again, “I͏'l̨l t̵e҉l҉l̴ y͘o̵u~͞… ҉ar̡e you ͜r͏ead͏y t͝ò ̕h̸ear ́t́hé t̨r͜u̸th̕ o̵f̸ ̨y҉our a̢ńgér?͢” “Just get it over with, I know it'll be bullshit.” Jack grumbled, narrowing his gaze at Anti and wishing he would get out of his face. Anti did as he wished, pulling away to twirl his beloved blade in his hand. “́O͡kay̷ the͟n… h͞e͢r̨ȩ's̕ the͏ t͘ruth.͠”͢ “Y̵ou're ̀an͜gry̸, ̶n͞ot at͢ m҉e̢… bu̸t ͡át ̀y҉our̶ ҉p̨re̛çi̸ou͟s͏ ͠com͘mun̢i̢ty…̧ ̷you͜ ͘b҉elo͜v͟e͟d͠ v̡iew̡er̕ş…̢ ̴your͏ ̕f͝ri͜en͏dly ̧fa̵ns th̶at ͡hąv҉e ͝ỳo̡u͜r̛ ̸b̨ack̵, ͏the͢ Bos͝se̵s.͟..͠” Anti giggled, eyes flashing black. “T̕he͜y're͜ ̕al͘l ̛m̨i͜ne no͟w͝. ͘Th̢e͘y̸ ͏co̷mp̵let̡ęl͡y ҉a̴ba̧n̢d͜oned̡ ̕y̴ou͠… ̡and y̸ou̡ ͠kno̶w ́i͞t̶.̢”͜ Jack's eyes widen at the words and shook his head, angrier than before. “You lying sack of shit! Why would any-” “̷Ḩ E ͢E̴ ̴H ̀A҉ H Ą ̡H͢ ͝A H ͘A~͝!͝” The entity crowed, taking great delight at the pain that flashed across the youtuber's eyes. “̛W̧h̛y k̡e͜èp ͞denyin̨g̷ ̵t̛h͠a͜t t̶ruth?̡ The͡ s̶tŗeam ͘pr̡ovéd ̢it to ҉y̢ou~̕. Fór̸ ̴w̛ho̢m did̷ ̢th́ey p͠ine ̛f̕or? ͢Who͜ di͝d͡ ̷t̢hey͢ dr҉a̧w ̨ȩx͘ci҉temen̸t ͜f͡ro͟m̨?͢ ͘What reaso͜ņ h̵a͏d ͠t̡he̸sȩ ̕f̴-foǫl̵s s̡ta̸yed u̕p҉ ͞f̡o͞r̴ h͟-hour̨s ̵ùpon hǫųr̶s ͢lo͢-l҉óok̶i͡n͘g ҉at̶ a̛ u̵s̶e͝le͡ss̀ s-҉s͟c͏re̸en ҉for ͡a͟n҉ en͘t̷i̷ré ̨ni-̵night̴?̴!” The Irishman stared at him, eyes wide, taking in the words as they lashed at him like physical blows. He let their weight sink into his mind as his thoughts raced. Anti leaned toward him, placing a hand to his chest as his smile stretched across his face, giggling. “͏W-͢w͟ho͜ ̷w̨a̛s ̴it͟, J̕a͏ck̛? ̛T-͜t̨ȩll me ͡th̛ȩ ͞tru̢t̢h̨!”̸ “. . .” “Sa̢y̢ ͝i̢t!” “. . .” He shivered, keeping his eyes screwed shut, refusing to say. “S҉A͝Ỳ I̡T̵!”͠ But there was a nugget of truth... at least a nugget of truth that Anti pressed against his face. “. . . .” Jack mumbled softly, flinching as he did. “̧I CA҉N'T͠ ̡HEA̷R YOU!҉” “...you...” Anti giggled and nodded, watching the Irishman's shoulders sag in realization. “That̨'s̀ r͡i͡ģht, ͘L͢ucky̸ Charm̨s…̷ M̶e͠.̷ ̷They'҉re doin̕g ͞this̨ fo̵r͘ ҉m̷e͞.͞ Ànt͡ìse̴p̡t͢i͡ce̴ye i̴s̡ ̷wh̨o they ͢wa̵ǹt ̸t̢o̷ ̡s̡ee̢.̢ Th̛ey ͠love͟ ̨ąn̶d̸ ador͏è ̶ḿę.̴ Th̸ey ͝l̵ef͠t yo͘u̷ hig̛h̢ ͜an̸d d̷ry f͘òr me!”͘ He laughed, but the sound was both in delight and yet sheer rage, as if voicing his own contempt of the fanbase. “̛The҉y ͘lov͝e̵ ͜a̢ǹd͢ adore ҉me anḑ ̸y͢èt theỳ d͞e̵clare tơ ̧f̀ig͟h̨t ͞m͢e̵ ̀t͞o g͢et you b̡ack̶!̶ ͡AN̵D ̴T̨HE͢Y͏ H͘AVE̡N̛'̴T ̵DONE͞ ͘S̶H͘IT̡ F̧O̸R͝ Y̧O̴U!”̸ He snarled, “̸Al͜l t̵hi̕s̨ ti͘me,͜ t͢h̨ey͞'ve béen ͘sp͝in͏ning̢ iǹ fu͝c̀king ̢c͝i̡rcl̶es ͡a͘n̕d ͟th͟èy leàrned ͡no͏thi̧n̸g̴.̨”͘

“Y͡ou ̡s̵ee? ͜Yơu̸r͢ ͘f̕a̧ith w̷a̕s ̸wo͏rt̷hless͠! ͟My͡ co͜n̶trol ̧i̵s ̵fa͝r̛ su̵per̀ior t͢han̡ ̷yoư ͡t͜h̡o̶ugh̨t̵,̶ ̕Ja̧ck.̵ ̵Y͜our ͞c͜o͠m͝m͝un͝i͘t͏y̧ ̧abandone͠d͠ ͟you͡ w̶h͜en y͏o̸u n̷ee͡ded th͝e͡m ͠most ̶f̴o̧r ̴me! ͟Yo̵u'r̴e WE͡A͞K!́” Jack trembled under the onslaught of words. But he shook his head, refusing to let that personal pain spill from him. Did he place too much faith in them? Was he really that replaceable to them? Did his community truly abandoned him for someone so evil? Was he that weak that no one wanted to save him or his other egos? The idea of that tore at him. So much time he spent to make them happy, to give happiness to those that needed it. Spent so much time trying to teach them the good of the world… Only to have it be thrown back at his face…? Was Anti what they truly wanted? “No… not all of them...” “T̢h̕e͠y͘ wanted m̴ę h҉e͠ŕe,͞ J̀àc̨k!̴ So ͘hęre ͢I ̀am!͝”͠ Anti snapped, a smile splitting his face nearly in half. “I'͝v͡e ̛alre̢ady̛ w͞òn̛. T͟hiś wor͜l͟d͢ is ̶MIŅE. ́T́hese pe͘ǫpl͡ȩ ҉ar͠e̡ ͢M̧INE̷!͟”̨ He reached out and grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt and jerked him closer to his face, glaring at him. “Yo̧u̶ ͜c̸a̷n̶'t͟ sţop me̛.”̛ He pointed out in the direction of the camera that was used for the stream. “͡A̛nd̢ ̛them̷? ͡Th̶ey d̴o̶n't͘ ́wan̡t̕ ͠to.”͏ “But...” “̸F҉ACÈ ͘I̢T! ̢Yo͢u ́l͞ơst̨. A̡n͝d ̢they'̡r͢e ͝not͝ com̵i͡ng f͡o̕r͞ you͞.” Jack trembled, gritting his teeth as he fought against the possibility. There had to be people that cared for him in the community… there had to be. He and the other egos weren't thrown under the bus… it wasn't true. But the possibility was right there in his face. The Overnight Watch stream proved it. He saw the number of viewers that stayed awake throughout the night. How the chat burst into excited chatter whenever Anti or some other glitch happened on the camera feed. All about Anti. Anti this. Anti that. Anti… Anti… Anti… Nothing about Jack… The Irish Youtuber's eyes dulled from a bright blue to a bluish-grey hue and cracked. “. . . .” He wept, sagging in the entity's grip and just sobbed. Everything he worked for, made happen to bring happiness to others… stolen. And no one cared. A strange expression crossed Anti's face before he wiped it away with a sneer of contempt. “Y͢ou̧ ̨s͝ee̴? Th͘ey'r̀e just pup̴p̢e̡t͢s, on̨l̸y͢ danc͠i͘ng͢ t̸o wh͞o͡m͝ever̸ ͞h͜aş ͠c̛ontr͞o̢l̶.͘ They͜ d͝ơn͠'t ́ca̧r͝e̴ ̶who it ͢is. ̢An̸d̕ ̕s͠i̧nce̸ its ͜n͘ot ͠yo͏u̡…̀ t͝hey c̡a̶re ͟no̸th͏ing f̀or̸ ̵y̛ou.”̶ He let him go, letting him drop to the floor like a ragdoll as the chains no longer carried his weight but kept their hold on him to prevent escape. Jack didn't move, just laid where he was and wept. “͝I͢ ̨have ͡cle͜a͢ņi͠ng to ḑo.̧ J͟u̶s̨t ͝a͢çcep͏t that̸ yo͜u lo͡st,̕ Jack.̢ ̛It̵'ll m̸ak͏è ̧it̛ e͝asier o҉n ̧y̨o̢ur mind.͞” The entity turned and walked away from him, knife twirling and dancing between his fingers. “͏Y͝ou ҉l͜o̵s͝t҉ ̷o̢ur b̛e̢t͢. ̡T̵h̶ei̴r ͞so̶ul͘s ͝be͡l̕o͝n͞g to ̀mę…͝ as̛ ͝we͝l̢l͏ as yo̶úrs̨. B̶ut͠ I'͢ll̴ ̡g̵i͢v̴e̕ them ̶o͜n͢e ͠more ̀ch̀a̶n͏c͏e ̢to m͠a̢ke͢ t͏his so mu̡ch ͘b͏ette̢r. ͏On̴è ͟m҉ore͘ ̨c̀ha̕nce͝ t͟ǫ ̀re͜s̸cue̵ you͟. And th̷èn it̢s ga͞m̡e̢ ̷o̴v̴e̶r͝.”́ “Bùt ̨do̢ǹ'҉t ̴g̶e̸t ̴you͠r ͟h͟o̵pes ̡up, Lu͝ck̀y͏ C̸har̀m̛s.͟” Anti vanished to take control of the body, his words echoing in the mindscape. “A̛s f͏ar͠ ҉a҉s̶ th͏ey'̢re̴ ͟conce̴rne̛d…̶ yo̴u'̴r̡e dea̧d.́”̴ Henrik hung there, crying himself as he listened to soft sobs that wracked the youtuber's body. Jacksepticeye was abandoned by the very people he loved.

#antisepticeyefanfic #jacksepticeyefanfic #overnight watch #wiishu #crankgamesplay #kickthepj #emma #pixlpit #I'm sorry I wrote this

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