#i fuckin love doing stuff with shadows and/or silhouettes

[cybersteal]

#cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk photomode #cyberpunk v #oc: vice de'angelo #my screenshots #OHHHH BABY WE'RE COOKIN' WITH FIRE NOW #i fuckin love doing stuff with shadows and/or silhouettes #just scratches my brain real good

[rustys-lodge]

hi love, can i request a Shelby sister fic where she’s kind of like sandie (last night in soho) where she dreams of making it big as a showgirl and she meets a man who promises her the world kind of like a pimp. she gets caught up in that showgirl life and her brothers do everything to stop her and she like loses it basically the plot of last night in Soho pretty much (re writing it cause i keep checking!)

Warnings : physical violence, prostitution, blood, murder, basically all the stuff that goes on in the movie.

A/N : i wrote half of this in class lol, i wish i could have posted it when you sent the request again but i had lots of homework. Anyways, i hope i didn't dissapoint. ❤❣

------

"Close your eyes."

You can't. they're going to be looking back.

"Y/n, close your eyes!"

You can't.

"I said, close your fuckin' eyes."

"I fucking can't." You hurl the words out of your mouth like a rabid dog's bark.

You can't close your eyes. All you see is their faces. The faces of the men that used your silence for their own selfish pleasures. You couldn't close your eyes because all you could see was their slashed faces, more specifically, the blood gushing out, their irises wide, your own disgusting reflection firing in their terrified eyes and those tears that never seemed to dry.

---

A few days ago, you were at your last straw, you were fighting that urge, that last one, the one that needed to go the most.

You hurried up the stairs, the soles of your feet stinging with every step you took. your hand took ahold of the handle, enhancing your balance and so, propelling you forward,helping you gain a few more crucial seconds, you hurried to the room, shutting the door closed just in time for him to get to you. You locked the door and pressed your back against it.

A loud bang vibrated the door you were leaning against. Startled, your heart thudded every time his fist collided with the wood.

Another bang sounded...And another one.... relentless and eager to get you to die. Your body shook to your core and you squeezed your eyes tight, the blue and the red lighting of the bistro still seeping through your shut eyelids.

You needed an escape. You needed to-

"Open this fucking door, you whore. You know you did this to yourself, now open this fucking door."

You needed to kill him. That's it.

You marched to the bed, tucking your hand under the pillow to retrieve the knife you so long hid under there. Your little protector. Your fingers tightly squeezed the handle and you walked back to the door, your hand eagerly pushing the handle down.

That's it. I'm doing it. I'm killing him.

As the door frame swung open, your agent, Jack, stood at the door, only his silhouette was apparent, his head was cocked to the side, he stared at you. Although his eyes were shadowed by his propelled brow ridge, you knew that he was staring. because you knew him. And you held the knife even closer to you. And you would've used it, if he hadn't barked at your face.

"You know you deserve it, slut."

You froze at the comment, not that it's the first time you heard it, it's the shock that comes with it every time, the sudden realization of your current situation, where you'd gotten and where you w-

A sudden ache etched from your jaw when Jack's palm violently made contact with it, snapping you out of your thoughts and sending you backwards, with a sudden rush of adrenaline.

You were more than ready to fight. but you needed not to die first.

You shifted away as Jack stormed over to you, bending down swiftly take ahold of your footbut your good reflexes were even faster, you kicked him backwards, hard. Hard enough to have him staggering.

"Stop it, slut." Jack's hand swung again, grabbing your ankle, hindering you from kicking again.

"Leave. Me. Alone." Your hand scrambled around for the knife that fell from your hand earlier but you got interrupted when jack's body suddenly jolted forward, crashing over your own body, squeezing the air in your lungs shut.

"I got him."

A voice that sounded like a divine presence spoke and you recognized it right away, hoarse and angry. You just couldn't bel-believ-believe....Or brea-breathe..

As the man's doubled weight got lifted off of you, you drew the deepest breath in, still unable to process or comprehend what had just happened.

"It's okay, sweetheart, we're here now."

Your eyes followed the voice, and figures of the Shelby brothers seemed to stand by the door, like angels guarding god's little creatures. One of them, Tommy, who reached his hand out for you. But still frozen, you didn't take it.

"It's okay, honey, he's gone." As you were unresponsive, He scooped you up from the ground you laid on.

"It's okay, honey, he's gone."

From the corner of your blurred eyes, you saw Jack's cadaver being kicked and spat on. You'd smile. But your jaw was too numb.

"It's ok-"

--

"it's okay, Sweetheart."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you turn the other way, facing away from him.

A very frustrated sigh leaves his lips. He's still calm, though. "I told you i won't let anything like this ever happen to you again, sweetheart. I'm here now."

A second later the bed frame roars and Tommy is hugging you from the back;

For a very quick second you're about to startle, but Tommy proceeds by softly whispering into your ear first, "It's okay. It's just me." His arm envelops your chest, sending the warmth of his body vibrating into yours.

"I see them too. They may not be the same people but i see them too. Im here.".

-----

Hello, yall, i will be changing accounts soon. I'm going to start writing on the other one, if yall have any requests, please go on that one. ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

#shelby sister #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby sister!reader #shelby tag #tommy shelby x sister #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders sister #peaky sister #late night in soho fic #sister!reader #sister x brothers

[goliig68]

19 days fic rec pt.2

Making pt.2 cuz I couldn't add all of my favourite fics here( again, with no particular order )

Mark My Love by ria_green

( E | 12,525 | 9/? )

He Tian gently holds Mo Guanshan by the neck, thumb pressing into where a bond bite might one day appear.

Shivering, Mo Guanshan shoves him away. "Go do that with an omega, idiot."

Note: a funny omegaverse story. Don't let the omegaverse title put you off it's seriously very funny and cute. I love the interactions between guan shan and jian yi😂 he tian and zhen xi too! I swear they all have weirdest dynamics!

*

It will come back by mgsdays (regencyaus)

( E | 44,417 | 12/12 )

He Tian leaving on self-protection, after Jian Yi's disappearance, makes Mo scared enough to make a move. They stumble into something together just as He Tian leaves the country, and they have to figure things out long-distance while waiting for He Tian to come back.

--

Mo's known the gist of it since the dawn of his puberty. Water's wet, sky is blue, Mo's sexual desires are intertwined with his complicated feelings for He Tian. Big deal.

But the reality of it is- something else. This is something else entirely.

Did you miss me? – H

Barely noticed. - MGS

...did you? - MGS

Every minute of every day. - H

How the fuck does He Tian just say those things? Doesn't he feel embarrassed? Mo thinks he's feeling embarrassed for him, and he didn't even write it. He stares at the words until his phone light goes out, and then he turns it on again and stares some more.

Note: an amazing reunion au. I think author did a great job at handling tianshan's long-distance relationship and all of that mafia stuff. I think this fic has to be In everyone's "to read" list👌

*

nothing fucks with my baby by figglypudding

( E | 23,897 | 3/3 )

unexpectedly, and in the most unlikely of places, mo stumbles upon a reunion he'd long given up on.

but how can he heal when he's only just begun to acknowledge the hurt?

Note: another reunion au. But angstier and so much sadder😭 but it's happy ending, so all of that sadness was worth going through.

*

swimming in the blood by powerandpathos

( M | 29,455 | 1/1 )

Guan Shan’s nose wrinkles. ‘I sing like I mean it. I don’t sing it ‘cause I want everyone else to hear. That’s Jian Yi’s thing.’

’And what’s your thing?’

He Tian holds his gaze. Street lamps and car headlights are mirrored in the amber surface of Guan Shan’s eyes, and He Tian can see his own shadowed silhouette in his irises, a blocky shape of darkness with no detail. For some reason, that bothers him.

‘Still figurin’ that out,’ Guan Shan says.

Note: rock band au. Sex, drama and rock 'n roll. No drugs lol. This fic in in my top 10 favourite 19 days fics, And it is so underrated!! Go read it, it's truly wonderful!

*

nail House by powerandpathos

( M | 13,309 | 1/1 )

‘God,’ Guan Shan mutters. He pushes himself up onto his elbows. His thighs are still trembling, and he rolls his ankles. ‘You fuckin’ love control, don’t you?’

He Tian sits back on his haunches. ‘Have you seen my family?’

‘I don’t wanna talk about your family right now.’ Guan Shan huffs. ‘Bet you can’t fuckin’ stand that I have to drive you about, right?’

‘I got used to it. It’s a shame the car isn’t a manual. I’ve enjoyed seeing your hand around the gear stick.’

Note: Triad au/driver!Guan shan. One of my favourite aus! I really enjoyed reading it, so I read it 3 more time.

*

hook, line, and sinker by fayre

( Gen | 3,673 | 1/1 )

“So everything that happened,” Guan Shan says, trying and failing to keep a steady tone, “The shopping, the barbeque — everything was just because you didn’t want to go home alone? That's pretty damn convoluted if you ask me.”

He Tian huffs, amused. “Not exactly. I had nothing planned; no expectations. I just wanted to be with you.”

a post-chapter 292 drabble (the day after the BBQ/sleepover at the He family estate.)

Note: i loved all of the calm feelings I got from this fic. The descriptions of atmosphere and everything around them was so detailed that I literally could feel them too. It was very gentle and pure you know?

*

allergy season by fayre

( T | 6,506 | 1/1 )

“You know, they say that sneezing a lot means you’re on someone’s mind.”

“Yeah?” Guan Shan says a bit drily, sniffing hard. “Then what a fuckin’ shame.”

He Tian watches him. “For you?”

“For the bastard unfortunate enough to have gotten me on their mind,” Guan Shan answers, walking again. He hates how nasally and gross his voice sounds, and the back of his throat feels sore. “If someone’s thinkin’ of me this fuckin’ much, it can’t be good news for either of us. Trust me.”

“Ah,” He Tian says, and then nothing more.

a post-chapter 348 oneshot (the He Tian & dog chapter).

Note: man...i remember reading this fic hoping that one day, we get a love confession and kiss scene between he tian and guan shan (and now we fucking have it)

*

Knee high, stage fright (even if you're alright) by fayre

( Gen | 5,383 | 1/1 )

It’s no longer about what He Tian thinks; it’s about what he knows. And he knows Guan Shan — at least on a foundational level — and he knows how Guan Shan doesn’t just ask when he needs. He knows how Guan Shan doesn’t talk but doesn’t listen, either. He knows that Guan Shan doesn’t always think rationally but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think, and he knows how his body goes on autopilot before his thoughts cause him to malfunction and crash and burn.

He knows.

After all, it's the little things that add up. He Tian can only pray that they won't come crashing back down.

(or: no matter how hard he may try, guan shan can't hide all his problems. fluff ensues.)

Note: a soft and cute tianshan oneshot, with a little bit of angst but it's mostly fluff. I loved the ending, it melted my heart and brought smile to my lips🫠❤

*

singing in red by starlightstarshine

( T | 27,204 | 6/6 )

In which He Tian is the bassist for the most popular band in the world and Guan Shan is only doing modelling so that he could get enough money to pay for his next meal (based on that art by Old Xian).

Note: I love the fics where guan is head over heels for He tian haha😆

*

Tell Me On A Sunday by Llybian

( T | 1,501 | 1/1 )

He’d begun, with great difficulty, to accept all of this in his heart. But he still could do nothing. What was he supposed to do? Confess his feelings like a pathetic little schoolgirl? Not a chance.

But then again, what did he really suppose would happen if he told He Tian he “liked” him? Well, the world would end, for one. That was just a given. But beyond that, they’d probably just make out. There was really no chance of He Tian shooting him down or saying this was all just some long con.

Despite that. He just couldn’t.

Note: I think by summary everyone can get a brief foresight that what this fic is about. In my opinion, this fic is very real and in character.

*

Bites by Asfodel

( M | 24,263 | 7/? )

Turning to look at the black sky, he let his mind wander to a place he tried not to visit too often. To the last words Guan Shan heard He Tian say in that dim corridor.

« I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I’ll fix it, I’m sorry. »

Like a mantra.

or a rewrite of their reunion a few years after high school, basically disregarding the Christmas chapters. Side of ZhengYi, angsty but with a healthy dose of fluff, tags will be updated as the story goes.

Note: reunion au. It's such a beautiful but heartbreaking story. I love author's writing style, it captures feelings perfectly👌

*

A dog by Alien_Kitsune

( E | 50,000 | 10/10 )

Mo Guanshan and He Tian didn't meet in the school and each went his own way. Several years passed and Mo became a criminal. But on the verge of death destiny surprises him.

Two broken men who are still trying to find themselves in this world were always fated to find each other.

Note: mafia au. Thanks to @maruuzen for recommending me this fic!❤ I really loved the process of tianshan's relationship development. I'm sure that's how their relationship would go if they didn't meet at middle school, and/or he tian joined his family business, just like how it's stated in fic, fate brought them together. also it's angsty (of course) so be warned.

*

Dawn Rising by powerandpathos

( E | 78,968 | 13/? )

An Historical Fantasy AU—A poisoning; a death; a thief. A prince struggling to be a prince. A guard trying to stop one from getting killed. And everyone else on the sidelines. It has never been so hard to navigate the court of an empire when not everyone can survive.

Note: my favourite historical fantasy au, the plot, the drama, the characters it's just_ugh👌💞 unfortunately, this fic is probably abandoned, but don't let that stop you from reading it, even though it's unfinished, I think this fic is still amazing.

*

Cold On The Inside by incorrect19days

( E | 4,879 | 6/6 )

‘Look at me.’

He Tian instructed softly.

He took a deep shuddering breath and opened his eyes.

Note: a short and oh-so-beautiful story. It's a little bit sad but it's happy end, or hopeful ending better to say.

#19 days #fanfic #19 days fanfic #tianshan #zhanyi #thinking about all the amazing fics and authors In 19 days fandom #that I haven't discovered yet #Damn like... #Fic authors are like a blessing to every fandom #will i live long enough to see the ending of my favourite fics #the endings that may never come but im desperately waiting #yeah...I'm talking about dawn rising...

[nbhd-daily]

LILY PATTERSON: Where the fuck is Chip Chrome? I noticed you deactivated your Instagram.

JESSE RUTHERFORD: [Laughs] I like that you turned the “who” to “where.”

PATTERSON: Obviously, there’s one glaring reference for an alien rock star alter ego—

RUTHERFORD: Wait, wait, wait, who though?

PATTERSON: … Ziggy Stardust?

RUTHERFORD: I’m just joking.

PATTERSON: [Laughs] Oh my god, I was like, “Did I say that clearly?” But yeah, you’re channeling an icon. Tell me about bringing Chip to life.

RUTHERFORD: I’ve had the idea for Chip for about two and a half years.

PATTERSON: So it’s been baking.

RUTHERFORD: Yeah, I had the name, the whole shit. Obviously, Bowie is a giant reference… Ugh, I hate that word. A giant inspiration. It’s funny; when I was a kid, people would tell me about him, but I wasn’t really interested. I was gravitating toward hip-hop or modern pop. First, I got really into interviews and just watched the man talk. Then the music. I’ve always been an in-between kind of fella. I’m not quite this, I’m not quite that. I’m not super masc, I’m not super feminine … I’m kind of a confused person, to be honest with you. Bowie has helped me route. Like, here you go, this is a blueprint, an architecture. Not to say I sound like him at all.

PATTERSON: You deployed @chipchrome on Instagram, a platform that’s created so much anxiety around being “real,” being consistent, endlessly delivering your personal brand. And now Chip’s off the grid.

RUTHERFORD: I’m trying to figure out myself in all of this. Maybe I’m expected to have already done that, but I haven’t. I feel like I turned into a “thing” on the Internet. When you work on a piece of music for a long time, you post it, and it gets X amount of likes, then you post a picture with your girlfriend and it gets X amount… It’s just a weird, challenging, confusing feeling. I feel like there’s an opportunity to get off the platform, or at least try it this way.

PATTERSON: How many months ago did you debut Chip? August?

RUTHERFORD: Yes. I killed @jesserutherford when I turned 27. Dead at 27.

PATTERSON: A not-so-subtle 27 Club reference.

RUTHERFORD: Exactly. It’s this ridiculous motif. Really, I want to have fun with this stuff, play with it. Like, yo, nobody paints themselves silver, throws on a Spandex suit and a grill. Then, of course, Kanye West comes along…

PATTERSON: [Laughs] Major Basel ‘fit.

RUTHERFORD: Bowie passed and everyone started to think about him again, riff on him. But no one was taking it to the full Ziggy extreme! There’s a Tekashi69 out there but no Ziggy Stardust? C’mon. It feels comfortable for me. I’m having fun.

PATTERSON: Can you describe the physical process to go full Chip? Side note: I saw a picture of that reflective Marine Serre balaclava you scored recently. Insane.

RUTHERFORD: The makeup itself isn’t too long of a process. I’ve always done it myself. Actually, I have a friend of mine who rips at makeup, Sydney, @sydn4sty on Instagram—

PATTERSON: Good friend plug.

RUTHERFORD: She’s bomb. Me and Dev [Devon Carlson, Rutherford’s partner] met her, she was our neighbor at an apartment we lived at a bit ago. She came over, fucked around and helped me with an eye design. For the most part, though, I’ve always done it on my own. We did a tour recently, and I’d usually start an hour before the show, giving myself time to get in the headspace. I could turn into Chip in 25 minutes. It doesn’t take that long.

PATTERSON: What about the suit?

RUTHERFORD: The silver suit is a stupid Spandex suit from the boulevard. I just ended up going into one of those places, figuring out a suit that worked there. Taking measurements and shit, getting the sizing right.

PATTERSON: Love that.

RUTHERFORD: I premiered Chip at a B-level, crusty, Hollywood, kind of spaghetti Western-y place. Which felt right. But as you can see—you referenced the top Dev got for me—there’s so much opportunity for Chip to grow visually. When we [The Neighbourhood] go on tour later this year, I want to develop this. But there’s also something about the campiness, this B-level visual, that I really like. It feels authentic to me.

PATTERSON: All in a time when people are hiring stylists for their hotel-lobby-to-car looks.

RUTHERFORD: [Laughs] Exactly.

PATTERSON: I feel like the DIY, the physical process of putting yourself together imbues a certain energy, a sort of leveling with your audience.

RUTHERFORD: Right. Thanks so much for noticing.

PATTERSON: Is Chip working its way into your solo act? Or do you think you’ll reserve it for The Neighbourhood?

RUTHERFORD: It was gonna be its own thing. I had no intention of bringing Chip into The Neighbourhood. It sounds corny, but the reason I wanted to do Chip for The Neighbourhood is—I don’t know if you’ve heard our song, “Middle of Somewhere.”

PATTERSON: I did. I watched the video.

RUTHERFORD: That song is a special one to me. I wanted to make sure that I could attach something to it that would make people stop, look, and have to listen. We were gonna do a textural video, like B-roll footage, Super 8, nature-y. I wake up in the morning, and I go to the house we’re recording at, in Coldwater Canyon. Before our director Alex got there I was sitting in the house, looking across the canyon over on this hill, and I actually had a vision of the chrome fuckin’ thing on top of the hill. So I showed up the next day in full Chip regalia, and everyone looked at me like, “Oh, no…”

PATTERSON: [Laughs] So that was the first introduction between Chip and The Neighbourhood, when you made it a part of the universe.

RUTHERFORD: It was, yeah. Actually, this producer duo called Take a Daytrip–they did that Sheck Wes song [“Mo Bamba”], “Panini” by Lil Nas X–they’re doing so well. I’ve known them for a long time. They’ve always sent me beat packs and I’ll just go through, pick ten at a time. I thought Chip was going to be leaning more toward my hip-hop shit.

PATTERSON: Yeah, if you’d gone through with Chip as an independent project, how would it sound?

RUTHERFORD: End of 2017, me and my engineer, Danny, were in the studio, going off on Chip. If you ask my friends, they heard about Chip so long ago, they’re like wow, you actually did it! Chip was going to be hip-hop.

PATTERSON: Daytrip almost feels more aligned with this glitchy, chromed-out look than The Neighbourhood. I’m thinking of the “Panini” video, Lil Nas X in the space suit.

RUTHERFORD: Hip-hop music has been my programming. It’s been my love. When I was a kid, hearing Eminem, G-Unit for the first time, I was like… Bro, that is it. I don’t know if you know where I’m from, Newbury Park—

PATTERSON: Ventura County, right?

RUTHERFORD: Yeah, yeah. I was kind of the odd one out, in my neighborhood, my area, obsessed with rap. I decided to stick with the guitar, and I fell in love with it, not having to use so many goddamn words. In fact, I don’t want Chip to talk, because Jesse talks enough. It’s all in the song, that’s where I’m gonna leave it. And “Middle of Somewhere” is a good jumping off point. That’s probably the purest sound you’re gonna hear; it’s just me and a guitar. I’ve been really into Dolly Parton lately—

PATTERSON: She’s having a revival moment with us younger gens!

RUTHERFORD: She’s a great reference for what I’m doing, because Dolly will tell you, “Yeah, I don’t give a fuck if you think I’m fake on the outside, because I am! That’s what I wanna look like. And that’s fine, because I know what’s coming out of me is more real than anything. So I don’t have to worry about that.”

PATTERSON: People are gonna assume they know what Chip’s about; i.e. my questions about the Ziggy comparisons or the visual continuity with Daytrip’s sound. But the far-out visual is paired back to a fairly stripped sound.

RUTHERFORD: Exactly. It’s not what people are expecting. Right now, Chip’s dedicated to The Neighbourhood. The project is gonna be called—there might be a change—but right now it’s called Chip Chrome and the Monotones. The boys, the way we all look together… They’re shadows, they’re silhouettes.

PATTERSON: They’ve got the reflective two-piece suits, right?

RUTHERFORD: For the most part, I’m the only one who has to say something to express what we collectively feel. So if I say something they’re not into, they tell me. I mean, there’s two thousand songs the world won’t hear because we all didn’t agree. It’s working, though. When I first showed up as Chip, everyone was like “what the fuck are you doing?” Now that we’ve worked on the context, everyone’s down.

PATTERSON: Final question, easily the lamest. Will Jesse/Chip find their way back to Instagram?

RUTHERFORD: I guess I’ll say I don’t know. I’m only a couple weeks off.

PATTERSON: How’s it feeling?

RUTHERFORD: I mean, you know… I’m going through it a bit.

PATTERSON: It’s a hell of a drug. You ingest it, but it can also completely consume you.

RUTHERFORD: Comparing myself to everything, everyone, everybody I love… You can’t look at humans like that. I don’t want to think about what everyone else is doing. I feel my creativity pumping back up again. I mean, I have the queen of social media sleeping in the bed next to me. And it’s the coolest thing ever, the way Devon does it? That’s the way you gotta do it. Not work for it, but make it work for you. And that’s cool, that’s her thing, it doesn’t have to be my thing. Luckily, if I do want to come back…

PATTERSON: It’s all gonna be there.

RUTHERFORD: The weirdest twist to it all—which I love, which is wonderful—is that I get off of it, and a week later I get an email that Lily from Interview fuckin’ Magazine… I mean, it’s Interview Magazine! If that isn’t a sign to pay attention, then I’m an asshole and I need to recalibrate my vision.

#the nbhd #the neighbourhood #jesse rutherford #Interview Magazine #interview #chip chrome #chipchrome

[sam-lives-story]

#SamLives - Chapter 4

“Paranoia”

[Previous|Next]

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

It was on Day 11 that Jack got a message from Robin that sent a chill down his spine. He’d been sitting on the couch at the time, watching some Rick and Morty with Sam curled up asleep in his lap. The little eyeball was as comfortable as could be with Jack gently petting his “head”...and that’s when his phone went off.

Robin: Hey Jack...did you have plans for the Egos that I didn’t know about? Lmao

Jack blinked, staring at the screen. He frowned and typed a message back.

Jack: No...? Only what we’ve talked about, but I thought that wasn’t until next month. Why? Robin: Nice job on the editing practice then. Looks like your Anti skills are improving.

And now Jack was very, very confused.

Jack: What are you talking about? Robin: That last recording you sent me, for Subnautica. It looked great!

Jack sat up straighter, making Sam stir from his sleep, but he barely noticed.

Jack: Robin, I didn’t edit that recording at all. I haven’t recorded anything for Anti in ages. Robin: What are you talking about it? I’m watching it right now. Jack: Send it to me?

A few minutes later, Jack was at his computer with Sam on his shoulder, watching the short clip that Robin had sent him, playing it on a loop. That...wasn’t possible. No. What the hell...?

“...heeeey Reefies!” On-screen Jack was saying. “Aww, I love you guys. Be back soon! Alright, heading to the Deep Down Dark Deep Down. Gotta visit my base, visit my lockers, ‘cause I’m a stupid who forgot all the valuable stuff and left it in a place that takes FUCKIN’ FOREVER TO GET TO! Fuuuuck it so muuuuuch! Heheh...” Video-Jack chuckled at his own reference to Simulacra, and it was at that moment that a shadow appeared, glitching, behind him on screen. Just over his shoulder, against the wall. A familiar face grinned from the shadows, and a high-pitched, distorted laugh played in the recording. The video itself glitched, Jack included. Then Video-Jack shivered, glancing over his shoulder, and the figure - Anti - was gone. It was so quick that he wouldn’t have caught it in his brief skim-through of the recorded footage before he sent it to Robin. And it looked just like all those hints he had dropped in his videos during October before Anti had first shown up in “Say Goodbye”.

Except...except Jack hadn’t recorded that. Jack hadn’t done that. Jack hadn’t...made that face, laughed that laugh. He hadn’t done that...and suddenly he felt very, very scared. Then rationality kicked in and he giggled hysterically, running a hand through his hair.

He was being stupid. He was being dramatic. Obviously Robin had edited this, and was making a joke of it. That bit with Anti...it had to be part of the unused footage from a previous project. It had to be. He shook his phone free from his hoodie pocket and tapped out a shaky text.

Jack: Haha, very funny. You got me! I was actually scared there for a second! Jack: You’re such a troll lol

But Robin’s next message didn’t make him feel any better.

Robin: Man I’m not trolling you. I thought you edited that?

Jack could barely keep his hands from shaking as he tried to respond. He swallowed thickly, a dull fear washing over him.

Jack: No, I didn’t. That...I never did that. Unless I’ve learned to edit in my sleep I have no idea how that got into the video

Unless...

“Belief. I’m talking about belief....and how it can do amazing, impossible things...”

The words Mark had spoken to him a few days prior were bouncing around in his head again, echoing and repeating and playing on loop. Mark had been about to tell him something, before the call had ended. Something about belief. Something about Sam, but kind of not. Something that he didn’t get to finish saying because...he swallowed, both hands clutching at his hair as he sank in his desk chair.

Because the call had started to flood with static, and then his phone had shocked him. Which he wasn’t even aware a smartphone could do, not when it was mostly unharmed like Jack’s was.

Another buzz from his phone alerted him to another message from Robin.

Robin: Wait, so you didn’t put that bit with Anti in the other video either?

Jack scrambled to pick up his phone, fumbling with it for a moment.

Jack: What video? Robin: The upload from this morning, the first one. The “Reading Your Comments” video. Robin: You were answering some question about the egos...? I thought you were just messing with the community so I left it in. Robin: But when I saw the second one in the Subnautica recording you sent me I thought I should ask.

Jack rapidly pulled up the video on his computer, scrubbing through it until he found the question Robin was talking about, because he already knew which one it was. He’d responded with something totally off-topic, something unrelated, just to be funny...and sure enough, as Video-Jack was reading the question aloud, there was a little visual distortion. Not much, but if you were looking for it, you’d see it. And way in the background, in the shadows in the corner...a silhouette. Brief. Barely there. A fraction of a second. A few frames, maybe. And it knocked all of Jack’s breath from him.

“Jack? Are you okay?”

Sam had bounced onto the desk, into Jack’s line of sight, and the little eyeball was eyeing him with a look of innocent concern. Jack took a breath. Then another. He forced a smile.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, o’ course. Fine.”

“You’re scared.”

“...a little,” Jack admitted sheepishly. Sam could always read him, better than anyone. Having a mental link probably had something to do with it. “Sorry bud. I didn’t mean ta scare you.”

“Why are you scared?”

Jack had no answer for him, not really. He couldn’t think of a way to say it. So instead he thought it. He pictured Anti, pictured the videos he’d made with him. And he let his fear seep through...just a little. Enough for Sam to get the idea. And Sam...his pupil widened a little and he squeaked.

“He’s real too?”

“I dunno,” Jack shrugged, sinking further in his seat. He leaned forward, propping his elbow on the desk and burying his face in his hands, reverting to thinking from here on out. ‘I dunno. It sounds stupid, sounds impossible. But...I dunno how else he’s showing up in videos, unless Robin’s lying. And I don’t think he would. Not this far.’

Sam made a worried little noise and nudged Jack’s arm, nuzzling up against his hoodie sleeve. Trying to help. And it did, a little...because Jack managed to smile.

“C’mon, c’mon...” Jack was muttering at his phone and pacing, as though urging it on would somehow will the person on the other end to pick up the phone any faster. It was taking far too long. It was only as he finally heard someone on the line that it occurred to him what time it was in California.

“...h’lo?”

Jack winced, hearing the sleepiness in Mark’s voice, knowing he must have woken him up.

“Mark. Hi. God, sorry, I totally forgot what time it was over there...”

“Yeah, it’s...” There was a rustle of fabric, a muffled grumble. “...three in the fuckin’ morning.”

“Sorry. Shite. I didn’t think, I just called...I can...I can call back later...”

“Woah, wait, no, ‘s cool,” Mark mumbled. There was more movement on the other end, a light clicking on, a door opening and closing. A yawn. “Wassup?”

“...”

And now that he was actually talking to Mark, Jack began to realize how stupid he would sound the minute he opened his mouth.

“...Seán?”

“It’s...nothin’. Nevermind. I shouldn’t’ve called.” The words spilled out of him faster than he could think them, a hand dragging through his already-unkempt hair. Sam made a little noise of question from where he was sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Dude you sound like you saw a ghost.” Jack could hear the worried frown in his words. “Hold up, once sec...”

The call ended abruptly, but as soon as it had gone Jack’s phone was ringing again, this time for a Skype call. Jack sighed and answered it. His screen lit up with the rather sleepy-looking face of Mark, his hair a chaotic mess of bedhead and his mouth pulled down in a worried frown. Jack could only imagine how he looked himself. He’d been running his hands through his hair nonstop since he’d woken up, he’d had four cups of coffee, and he’d been jumping at shadows all morning. Mark blinked.

“Holy shit. You look like hell.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks, I kinda figured that,” he grumbled, looking away for a moment.

“Are you okay? You seem...stressed. I’ve seen it in your videos too...”

Jack let a small, hysterical laugh bubble past his lips.

"I'm fine! Toootally great!” He said sarcastically. “I'm being held together by coffee and redbull and cookies and prayers! What could possibly be wrong?!"

“Jesus.” Mark stared at him like he was nuts. “The hell happened to you?”

And Jack just let out a slow breath, deflating.

“...just...a lot. Recently.”

“Is it Sam still?”

Jack didn’t even feel annoyed this time when Mark mentioned it, just sighing resignedly.

“...sort of. I mean that’s part of it, sure, but...” He trailed off, chewing his lip. Wondering if this was even a good idea in the first place.

“But what?” Mark asked. Jack looked at his screen again to see Mark sitting on a couch now, a soft light illuminating his tired features. Would Mark think he was fretting over nothing? Mark had his own dark persona on the internet, Darkiplier, and Jack was certain he was aware of Antisepticeye. But thinking that Anti was a real, living thing...or whatever Anti’s version of “living” would be...

“Jack?” Mark’s brow furrowed in concern.

“...I...eh...” Jack stared at his screen for another long moment. Then he sighed. “...I’m bein’ paranoid. That’s all.”

“Paranoid about what...?”

“Anti.”

A pause.

“...you mean, like, Evil-You? That Anti?”

“Yeah. That Anti. He...” Another pause, another sigh, a huff of frustration. Jack, running his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time. “...he’s shown up in a few o’ my videos, an’ I didn’t put ‘im there. I didn’t record stuff for it. I didn’t tell Robin to do it, an’ Robin claims he thought I was editing it like that. And I keep...I keep thinking he’s right behind me, right over my shoulder. And I started thinkin’ about what you were saying about “belief” before and I started to think it might be possible and I wanted to call you and ask and – you...probably think I’m absolutely off my rocker.” Jack flopped back onto the couch, his head thunking back against the wall behind it. He closed his eyes, expression strained. God, he sounded insane. Sam slipped off the armrest to snuggle up in Jack’s lap, out of sight of the camera. Trying to make him feel better.

“...would you call me crazy if I said I believed you?”

And just like that, Jack’s eyes were glued to the screen again, where he could see Mark avoiding looking at the camera, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Looking concerned.

“You’re joking.”

“Not...not this time, no.”

There was a seriousness to his tone that Jack wasn’t used to, that made him think maybe Mark really did mean what he was saying.

“Why?”

“Why do I believe you?” Mark asked, finally looking up to the camera. “Because I think–”

There was an odd, glitched distortion on the screen, the lighting around Mark changing and shifting for a brief, almost unnoticeable moment....and judging by the slight widening of Mark’s eyes and the way Jack gasped softly, they both knew that the other had just seen the same thing.

“...I think...I can’t talk about it. Not now. Not...” Mark glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on something off-screen, something near the ground. “You alright? It’s okay, I promise. I’m right here.” The camera’s angle changed, going lopsided as Mark leaned over to reach toward whatever was on the floor. Jack assumed it was probably his dog, Chica. Poor pup. He smiled softly in sympathy. Then Mark was back in the frame, and he looked a little strained.

“Look. I can’t...talk about it over the phone. Obviously he doesn’t want you knowing. But I’ll be in Europe for a tour soon. A few weeks from now. Just...hold out ‘till then, and we can talk then. I’ll stop by, or we can meet up–”

“Wait, who?” Jack interrupted, frowning. A minute fear seemed to build in his chest, a tension there that hadn’t been there before, and he found himself glancing over his shoulder despite the fact that it was broad daylight and he was sitting against a wall. Sam made a quiet noise of distress and cuddled closer to him, looking up at him. Jack’s free, shaking hand fell to his lap to pet the little eyeball. “Who doesn’t want me to know what?”

“Later,” Mark insisted. “Not now. It’s not safe.”

“Why?!”

“Later!”

And Mark hung up. Jack tried, twice, to call him again - but both times Mark ignored him. He gritted his teeth and held Sam a little closer, suddenly scared to be alone.

[A/N] I swear, when I began this story, this was not the direction I was planning on taking it. It was going to be a cute little fluff-friendship piece with Sam thrown into the mix, then...the story took on a mind of its own. So even I don’t know where it’d headed...but I promise there will be cutes ahead as well. That, at the very least, is still a part of the plan. <3

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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[Chapter List]

#SamLives #Sam Lives #Markiplier #Jacksepticeye #JSE #Jacksepticeye FanFic #JSE FanFic #Sam Septiceye #Sam #Jack #Mark #Robin #Chapters #4 #Paranoia

[oldmythos]

for your prompts!! (I'm so excite thx for doing this!) sheith royalty au where Keith and Shiro are princes from warring countries and when Shiro's country loses he is captured and sent to Keith as a slave. When he shows up he has been treated very badly...what will Keith do?? Will they fall in love? Can they gain each other's trust??(Requesting maximum angst and Shiro being tenderly taken care of plz

Okay, I got way WAY too into this one and had to force myself to stop writing. I absolutely love this prompt and love putting Shiro through hell. My sweet sweet son. Let’s punch him in the face again.This is the best ending spot I could find, but you bet your ass I have like 1000 more words I haven’t posted.

This is the first fill for my most recent follower celebration, stay tuned for more of me getting way too into prompts.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with the goings on of war. He knew exactly what a well placed punch felt like, what an arrow felt like piercing his shoulder, what a blade felt like slashing along his side. He knew what torture felt like and was all too familiar with the sensations caused by all the different tools they liked to hide in the deep dark holes of war camps. He knew what it felt like to have his arm separated from his body as he watched, as he fought for his life, as he watched his country massacred in front of him. He knew what it felt like to be held up on a podium of bodies, hasty tourniquet tied over the stump of what used to be an arm, he knew what it felt like to be a trophy and absolutely nothing more. He remembered the feeling of Sendak’s knife, slicing through his face, inch by inch, the sound of cheering a dull roar, pierced by his own incoherent screams and Sendak’s soft whisper, filling his ears, his mind, and his memory.

“You’re no champion now. You’re garbage, just like the rest of them.”

Long in short, he knew what it felt like to get hit.

Nonetheless, the kick stunned him. Maybe because his stump was still bleeding and his entire body was pain, leftover from that final battle; maybe because it was supposed to be over.

He knew why; some part of him thought he deserved it. The soldiers surrounding him were all too happy to remind him. One of them almost tripped over his prone form on his next kick.

The man slurred his words. “Bet ya’ wish ya’ hadn’t came in on your fuckin’ white horse at Sheenahet, eh, Champion.” He spit the title down at the bleeding form.

Shiro had never liked the name, but in the mouth of the people who used to fear it, it felt like poison. He wasn’t the Champion, not anymore, not now, not huddled in the fetal position on the way to meet his new master and his new life, if it could even be called that.

One of the drunks gave another swift kick and Shiro could swear he could hear his ribs crack before they stumbled off into the night, cackling about how they had just destroyed the great Champion of Sheenahet, of Tourali, of almost every battle the Alteans had eked out in the last few years of the war. It didn’t matter that he was chained at the wrist, the ankles, a collar around his neck attached to the side of his cage.

He wished that this feeling was unfamiliar, but as he fell out of consciousness he could only remember that this is just how the Galra were and bleeding on the dirt was the least he could do after failing his entire nation.

The Galran prince knew that they had won, finally, but couldn’t bring himself to grasp how much it meant. The war had always been a distant thing; he knew, some time in the past, long before he’d been born, the Alteans had been a more present threat, but they hadn’t breached the border of the kingdom since Zarkon’s time. As legend told it, ever since Zarkon had defeated the traitorous Alfor, the Alteans had never been able to pull themselves back together.

The only way his life would change, as far as he could tell, was that he’d be receiving a new slave. He wouldn’t have to spend hours slaving over battle strategies anymore; he would miss that part. He may have never seen war but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a part in it. His plans were instrumental in winning the last few battles, he knew. He’d seen the numbers and he understood what they meant. Those plans, those numbers, they had been his purpose. They were his friends in the dark days when no one dared to knock on his door.

It was over and he was still alone.

The journey shouldn’t have taken weeks. Shiro had been this way before, and on horseback it should have taken six days. He didn’t know how long it had been; the days melted into night melted into days and back again, the lines blurred by his fever. He watched the shadows cast by the bars of his cage slide across the rough wood he was bound to, he counted the bumps in the road by the ache in his ribs every time the cart hit one.

They didn’t move him often, but sometimes they’d drag him off the safety of his cart and shove him into some open air cell, forcing him to sleep on the dirt by their campfire while they had free reign to enter, kick him, cut him as they pleased, and leave.

None of their little blows felt like anything anymore. They might as well have been beating on a drum. His whole focus was on his arm and the heat that radiated from it. It wasn’t just the stump, the leftover, but his entire right arm, clenching all the way up to his neck. It came in waves, but whatever he did, he couldn’t get the tension to release. The blows were a kind of relief compared to the pain his mind made up.

He wondered if he’d even make it to the capital, if he’d even meet his master. He wondered if he would be killed, if he did make it. He was useless now. He wasn’t worth the space it took to hold him.

But that was a problem for someone else. Shiro never lifted his eyes from a speck of dirt, slightly darker than the rest of it, right in front of his nose. If he had, he would have caught the silhouette of spires, outlined by the dying light of the sun, the capital.

The change in scenery was not a slow one. The Galran were nothing if not paranoid and every time the city extended past the walls they just put up another one around the new suburbs. His view was filled with nothing but stone and darkness for a moment as they passed through the gate in the outer wall and suddenly, his world was alive.

The procession must have been quite a sight: hundreds of thousands of soldiers returning from war, from ending a thousand year war, thousands of horses, cart after cart carrying back the spoils of victory, and right in the front, exposed to the sunlight and the hundreds of gaping faces of the citizens, was Shiro.

He expected violent yelling, roaring crowds, being hit with whatever they could throw at him; instead, he was greeted by stunned silence.

Just whispers, passed through the crowd. He was sure they were talking about him, saying he’s so weak and that used to be the Champion? and there’s no point in him. He heard the whispers from where he was even though there was no way the sound waves could have made it to him. He just knew what they were saying, could hear it in his head, could feel it.

He almost wished they’d throw stuff at him. He was used to that; he knew how to deal with that. He didn’t know how to deal with anything, with these new voices in his head; he didn’t know how to deal with this new him, armless, in the fetal position in the center of a cage, sobbing mindlessly as the fever wracked his body, each wretched movement sending a flare of pain through his nerves, constantly on fire; he didn’t know if the pain had just consumed him, if the fever was actually that bad, or if he was actually literally on fire.

They didn’t bother to throw anything. They knew he was already completely and utterly broken.

The procession made its way through gate after gate and by the second, Shiro had covered his ear and shut his eyes. As ridiculous as it was, some part of him kept chanting if you can’t see them, they can’t see you. he knew it was stupid, he knew that they could see the cowering mess, but it helped him. He could just breathe and pretend he was anywhere else. The fact that one ear remained open to the sound due to his lack of a hand made it difficult, but he made do.

The light flickered through his eyelids more and more as they mode their way out of the public markets, into the tenement, the merchant’s houses, the noble quarter, and eventually faded away altogether.

Something in the air changed. It wasn’t the hot sticky scent of summer and people anymore. It was still, clean, and cold.

He kept his eyes closed.

He heard his cage open and flinched.

A gasp, some yelling.

The sounds were getting harder and harder to focus on, fading in and out as he struggled to stay awake.

He knew he screamed when someone touched him but he couldn’t hear it. The hand retreated. More yelling. Shiro knew his breathing was erratic, he was panicking, grasping onto the thin threads of lucidity that had become so fleeting.

He almost tried to fight back when something tried to pick him up but quickly gave up.

Someone put him on something soft and he almost thought he was safe.

He blacked out, breathing clean air, almost thinking he was safe.

Please like this so I can justify spending my whole life just letting Keith hold Shiro and make him better and restore peace between their kingdoms please.

#myth writes #sheith #shiro #keith #fic #sweet sweet child #the angriest of the space children #follower celebration #okay guys please like this #please tell me if you like this #because i want to write it FOREVER #good sweet sons #AU event #myth's AUs

[peter-pan-hoe]

Deadly Nightshade pt1

Requested by anon: “Could you do an imagine where you caught pan cheat on you but he regrets it and trys everything to make you forgive him”

Word count: 2,174

Warning: Swearing, violence, light smut,

This will be in two parts as I had too much happening and didn’t want it to be too long. I changed it up a little as I couldn’t really think of a way to have him cheat without that stuff I added. I hope it exceeds your expectations xx

MASTERLIST

  “Wake up,” Peter’s soft voice broke into my dreamless sleep as he shook my shoulder.

  “No,” I groaned.

  “There’s someone new on the island,” I could hear the smile in his voice.

I turned over to face him with an unhappy expression. “They better be the fuckin queen,”

  “No that’s you,” he chuckled before leaning over and kissing me. I smiled as I kissed him back.

  “Okay... fine... I’ll wake up,” I said between kisses.

He jumped up and tore open the curtains with no warning.

I shouted and covered my eyes as they hadn’t adjusted to the light.

Peter, the Lost Boys and I made our way to the beach where the shadow drops the newbies in search of the one Peter sensed this morning.

  “How old do you reckon he’ll be?” one of the younger boys asked as we all hiked along.

  “I don’t know, am I a witch?” the older boy he walked beside snapped.

  “Hey!” I shouted at the older boy. “One, what the fuck do witches have to do with knowing someones age? And two, speak to him or anyone like that again for no reason and I’ll remove you tongue,”

The older boy glared at me but apologised and ran ahead. The younger boy grinned at me and thanked me and also ran to find his friends.

  “I love it when you get all ‘authority’ like that,” Peter snaked his arm around my waist as he whispered seductively in my ear.

  “Really?” I looked at him out the corner of my eye with a smirk. “So if I was to pin you against a tree and do whatever I wanted to you, you wouldn’t object?”

  “I would not, but it’ll have to be later or we’ll miss meeting the new boy,” he winked and grabbed my hand as we sprinted past all the lost boys so that we were ahead of the group.

  “Race?” Peter smiled at me but didn’t wait for a response before letting go of my hand and running even faster.

  “Hey no fair!” I tried my best to catch up but I was no match for his long legs and lean build. He was just fast.

He burst through some bushes in front of me and disappeared from my view for a few seconds before I also hit the same shrubbery.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked when I made my way through to almost crashed into his back as he was standing completely still staring out to the beach.

  “It’s...” he said slowly.

I looked around to see the new comer.

  “A girl,” I finished his sentence.

She turned at the sound of our voices with a glorious smile. She wore a white dress  that swayed as she turned. It was long and sleeveless with ruffles around her claves. It looked like a 1800’s sleeping gown.

Her smile vanished when she made eye contact with me. Despite her unhappy expression for me, her beauty was striking. Golden curls fell down her back and her fair face was dotted with freckles across her cheeks and nose. Big hazel eyes glared at me with a hate that made me feel intimidated.

Peter seemingly unaffected by her glare, walked forward with his signature smirk.

  “Welcome to our island,” he bowed dramatically. “I am Peter Pan, King of Neverland. And you are?”

  “I am Belladonna,” she flash the same hypnotic smile from before and gave a small curtsy. “You can call me Bella,”

I frowned as I tried to remember why her name rang a bell in my memory.

  “Belladonna... “ Peter hummed thoughtfully. “Y’know this island has its own deadly plant. But I must say it is nowhere near as alluring as Belladonna,”

That explains why her name is familiar to me.

I stepped forward also and gave a warm smile to this girl.

  “Hello,” I said, still smiling. The smile she had for Peter turned into a scowl for me. I ignored it and took a protective hold of Peter’s hand. “I’m Y/N. Peter here refers to me as his Queen since he is king here. It’s going to be nice no longer being the only girl,”

  “There are no other girls?” This Bella girl said this as if she was hopeful or relieved.

  “Just me and like 30 teenage boys,” I laughed nervously. “I could help you set up a nice tent a little ways from the boys. They’re lovely but they’re still teenage boys so-”

  “That’s okay,” she cut me off as she smiled at Peter and took his  other hand. “I can handle some teenage boys. Just fix me up a tent while the King gives me a tour,”

  “Uhm,” I had to hold myself back from biting her face as she looked at my boy liked that. “I offered to help you set up your tent. I’m not going to do it for you,”

She gave me the filthiest look then turned back to Peter with a smile.

  “Give me that tour now?” there was something about the way she spoke to him. She looked at him like she was giving a small child instruction.

He smiled at me awkwardly but I could see in his eyes that he truely wanted to go with her. So I did what anyone would do. I gave the bitch a glare that said ‘touch him and I’ll kill you’ then I  released Peter’s hand and walked away.

I was back at camp setting up this girl’s tent as she a Peter still had not returned. I’m a murdering pillaging queen (sorta) and I fucking hate this girl but I have a role on this island and that is caring for it’s inhabitants so I’m not about to let her sleep outside.

Still there was something very off about this girl. The way she looked at Peter and they way he seemed to be under her spell.

I furiously searched my brain for some kind of magic she might’ve used to enchant him.

Is she some kind of siren? A fae?

She’s a bitch either way.

  “Hey Y/N?” I heard one of the boys call my name. I turned and saw Felix.

  “Yeah?” I dropped the tent fabric I was holding and brushed dirt off my knees. “What’s up?”

  “Didn’t Pan go ofw with the new girl?” he scratched his head as if he was uncomfortable with the topic. “Don’t you think they should be back by now? It’s sundown and he’s usualy back before then. He never misses dinner. Should we go look for him?”

I looked at the sky and saw he was right. I’d been so focused on my displeasure of setting up this girl’s tent that I hadn’t noticed how dark it was.

I was suddenly very worried.

  “Get the big boys together, but have Connor stay with the rest,” I instructed. “We’re going to go find them, but I need to make sure the littlies are safe,”

He nodded then jogged of to find the ‘big boys,’ which were the 12 oldest, ages ranging from 15 to 17.

He returned with them all and they stood before me awaiting further instruction. Some held torches.

  “We’re heading to the beach to track them from there,” I took off at a jog, leading the group to the spot where we found Bella.

It was a short journey at this pace. Or that might’ve just been my mind zoning out until we got to the beach.

  “Find their tracks,” I shouted. “Then fan out and pay attention to anything that might be off,”

I found our footprints in the sand from earlier and followed them in the direction Peter and Bella left the beach.

  “This way,” I called and the boys spread out and followed the direction I was heading.

We’d been following these tracks for about an hour and a half when I saw something that made my mind reel.

  “Stop!” I hissed. I reached out to the fabric hang from the branch in front of me.

Peter’s shirt.

The boys all halted in there tracks and stared at what I was holding.

  “What the fuck…?” Felix muttered. “There aren’t any water’s here…”

  “I know,” I growled. I thrust the shirt into Felix’s arms then I stomped forwards.

I pushed my way into a clearing. It was dark and I couldn’t see much but I could hear fine. And what I heard was moans, groans, heavy breathing.

I looked to my left, where the noises were coming from.

There they were. I could see their silhouettes in the darkness.

Then the boys and their torches came into the clearing, lighting up the place and the sight before me had me shaking with rage.

Peter was sitting on the ground, obviously without his shirt. He pants were pulled around his knees but his privates were covered, by Bella.

She straddled his hips with her dress hitched up around her thighs.

He held her in place with his hands on her thighs under her dress.

She held his face to her chest and he stared up at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Her striking beauty from earlier was gone however.

Her skin looked grey and her light brown freckles were now black. Her hazel eyes were a piercing ice blue and her golden hair was orange, it looked like flames dripping down her back, Her curls quivering as she grinded up and down on Peter’s lap.

But this was not the most fearful thing about her appearance.

No, she had strange growths on her back, poking out of her long hair, tearing through the fabric of her dress.

Wings.

Dark grey leathery wings sprouted from her shoulder blades like those of a giant bat.

I know what she is… Why she hated me, why she was happy there aren’t any girls, why Peter is mesmerized by her.

  “Succubus,” I spat.

She looked at me now. She made a sound that could only be described as a shriek and bared her pointed fangs at me.

Peter blinked as if waking up from sleep. He looked at was happening and it was like a switch was flicked in his brain.

He vanished from where he sat on the ground and reappeared a few metres from Belladonna with his pants returned to his hips.

  “Witch!” he snarled at her. “What spell have you cast on me?”

  “No spell,” she laughed. Her voice was still like music. “You are merely a male, and they are weak to the charms of my kind,”

  “She’s a succubus,” I explained to him, but after what I saw, I couldn’t bring myself to look in his eyes. “They’re demonic women who prey on men. Some stories say they eat their flesh, others say they eat their souls but the stories always has sexual deeds in common,”

Peter noticed my lack of eye contact and his face filled with shame and guilt.

  “Y/N…” he took a step towards me but I turned away from him and focused on Belladonna.

  “Fitting name by the way,” I said to her. “‘Deadly nightshade, commonly known as Belladonna’ means beautiful woman, but is a deadly flower. Did you come up with that yourself?”

  “Actually no,” she smiled as if remembering some great memory. “A village I used to torment gave it to me after I killed half the men there-”

Her face suddenly contorted in pain and she clutched at her throat.

I looked at Peter and saw that he was using magic to choke her.

  “Filthy creature,” he seethed as he stood in front of her. “You come to my island, and think you could do your vile things to me?”

  “I did pretty well don’t you think?” she managed to squeak out. “I could feel how close you were. Didn’t you enjoy yourself? I know you did,”

He pulled his dagger from his belt and drove it up under her chin into her skull.

Her eyes rolled back and her hands fell from her throat, lifeless at her sides.

Peter dropped her corpse, not removing his dagger.

He turned away from her and stared at the ground.

  “Boys,” he said. “Please leave us,”

Felix looked at me worriedly but left with the others.

I looked at my feet, unable to look at Peter. I know it’s not his fault but I still have that image of him with another woman seared into my mind.

  “Y/N,” his voice was filled with such sadness.

I looked up at him briefly. There was blood spatter on his chest. If this was some other situation my demented self would’ve found that riveting but it just made me feel sick. Even though he killed her, she is still on him.

I turned my head down and squeezed my eyes shut.

  “Y/N please…” he pleaded.

  “I-,” my voice came out as nothing but a whisper. “I have to go,”

Then I ran away. Away from him, away from the camp. I didn’t have a destination in mind. I just ran.

#peter pan #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine #peter pan smut #peter ouat #peter pan once upon a time #once upon a time #once upon a time imagine #ouat #ouat imagine #lost boy #lost boys #lost girl #neverland

[mittel-schmerz-blog]

lolinternet

I took a long breath in and did a four-count exhale, willing myself not to start weeping like an idiot.

“I mean, don’t you think that’s psychotic? I just keep thinking about why someone would do something like that. It’s so cruel. He—”

“Andrea,” she said gently, “As much as I would love to hear your musings on Dan’s potential motivations and moral failings, we’re here to talk about the thought processes and behavior patterns that led you into this situation and how you can learn from it to form healthier attachments in the future.”

She uncrossed and then re-crossed her legs and looked at me, expectant.

I was nibbling at the inside of my cheek. I found it a little hard to believe that, after I had just told her that the man I thought I was beginning to fall in love with was actually just using me to test a program he’d written for this insane chatbot sociological experiment/new internet company, she could possibly find fault with me.

“I guess that’s fair… How do you recommend we proceed, then?”

“Tell me more about Dan. What was your first impression of him?”

“I guess my first impression of him was that he looked exhausted, but like, in a really compelling way. We met late last year at our friend Jenny’s birthday dinner. He’s like 6’3 and has these fantastically enormous eyebrows. I thought he was beautiful. We were sat next to each other and I was immediately infatuated with him.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Just the basic getting to know you stuff I guess, but the words looked so stupidly good coming out of his mouth.”

“So when after that did the texting begin?”

“Immediately. That next day he added me on slakr and—”

“Wait. Added you on what?”

“Slakr. S-L-A-K-R. It’s this messaging app that’s basically—” I looked at her for a half second. She was wearing a crisp pastel pink moto jacket. She looked maybe a little bit older than me but definitely not much. “You remember AOL Instant Messenger, right?”

“Of course, Andrea.” She raised one eyebrow.

“Just checking! So, anyway, yeah. After that we talked for something like twelve hours a day every day. At first it was just this weird thing that kept happening, but at about a month in, the…” I searched for the right word, “Tone? Of our ongoing dialogue seemed to change.”

She stuck her arms out toward me and prompted, “What changed exactly?”

“I’m not really sure. I mean, I know this sounds ridiculous but it started to seem like he was made for me. Like he was put on God’s green earth specifically for me.”

“I’m going to need you to unpack that a little bit.”

“I don’t know if I could pinpoint something specific. The character of the conversations just seemed to shift. It just started to feel like... like he really knew me. And really liked me. And it seemed so genuine, like he thought he had really… seen something in me.”

I leaned back, pulling my eyes up toward the ceiling in a protracted pause.

“Hmm…” She scribbled something in her notebook. “So?”

“So what?”

“So did you feel like you really knew him? What did you see in him?”

Now I uncrossed my legs. “I don’t know if I really know anyone.”

She half-rolled her eyes and said, “Uh huh. So no?”

“No— that’s the thing. I really thought I did.”

“Okay, so what made you think you really ‘knew’ Dan?”

Did she really just use air quotes?

“Ugh. I don’t know. From everything that I could gather about him…”

We sat in silence for four full minutes.

I turned to look out the window, but all I could see were the dull silhouettes of cars in the parking lot. She had these white cotton honeycomb blinds that made everything look hazy.

I thought about telling her that it felt like I knew him that first day. I had offered him a ride home and he was sitting in the front seat of my car, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth through the cracked window. Then, when the radio broadcast paused for station identification, he muttered something marvelously rude, cut his eyes at me, and just barely stuck his tongue out of his mouth. It put a jolt through me.

Finally I said, “Honestly, I can’t put my finger on it. There was just something intensely familiar about him. But now I think that maybe the thing that drew me to him was the fact that I thought he thought I was fascinating or whatever.”

She cocked her eyebrow again and said, “Tell me what that looks like in practice.”

“Okay. For example, I asked him if he had ever seen Patch Adams and he said, ‘Yes! I’m a big fan of Robin Williams’ lesser works. Death to Smoochy is one of the funniest movies I’ve ever fucking seen, dude.’ and I totally agreed with him and he was like, ‘You’re awesome’ so.”

“I’ve never seen that movie.”

“Well, it’s great. But we only have 90 minutes here so I don’t want to get sidetracked by a discussion of what is arguably the best movie about a feud between two kids’ show hosts ever made— if that’s okay. But I did really like that Dan and I felt the same way about it. Do you think the plot is potentially relevant to our discussion?”

She choked back a laugh and said, “Most likely not.”

“Cool. So yeah, I guess it was little things. But there were so many of them that it made it feel like we were just...in sync. But there was more than that. He always humored me.”

She blinked and untucked her hair from behind her ear, letting it hang loose in her face.

“It was a robot. It was programmed to humor you. But you said you saw each other a few times over the last few months? What was that like?”

“Chatbot, not robot. But, anyway, honestly it wasn’t great. It was always pretty underwhelming to actually spend time with him.”

“Why?”

“He never made eye contact— it was super fuckin’ awkward. At the time it all felt very pre-teen, like a younger version of me. Like, I didn’t see him again until two months after the first time we met. I asked him to go to get many beers with me, expecting a great conversation and dynamic late-night kisses, but when he got there, he barely even looked at me. The conversation didn’t have any of its usual spark.”

I took two shallow breaths and fingered the seams inside my jacket pocket.

“Was it the same way every time you two saw each other?”

“Well we only saw each other a few times, but when I did call him to hang out, he would show up and talk to me like he didn’t know me.”

She let a silence hang for a minute.

I was sitting on this superstuffed tufted couch swirling in the whirlpool of a complete mindfuck. But the good doctor kept a quick pace.

“If it was disappointing, why did you keep talking to him and trying to spend time with him?”

I squinted at her and thought back to the way he looked at me that first day and said, “There was just something about him. It seemed like he was someone I was supposed to know. I’ve never enjoyed talking to someone so much.”

“How illuminating. I’d like you to consider that, although we’ve been talking for a little while now, I don’t really know anything about Dan.”

“What do you want to know? He’s a fucking psychopath. Apparently I don’t really know anything about him either.”

“That’s my point. Do you think you would’ve noticed that… something was off… sooner if you had been more attuned to Dan the person rather than Dan your primary resource for external validation?”

“How do you mean? I’m a human being not a fucking Turing Test. But now that you say it like that… I guess there wasn’t all that much there.”

I shuddered thinking that this whole six months had been one long, strange, ego-fueled bender. It’s honestly the most mortifying thing that has happened to me or to anyone ever. Imagine feeling that skittish lacewing electricity and learning that you’re actually just a self-obsessed moron.

“Okay,” she intoned. It sounded a little like a consolation. She nudged, “So how did you end up finding out?”

“I tried to ask him about his feelings for me. I’m not totally oblivious— the whole thing was weird. It didn’t feel right. I asked him to play Skee-Ball at this college bar on the east side. And so it became 7 PM on Thursday and there he was and there I was. But before I could say anything he started talking about this article he’d read in Psychology Today or whatever about mirroring.”

“I’m familiar with the concept.”

She picked up her hands, laced her fingers together, and then rested them in a pile on her lap.

“I should have assumed as much. Anyway, we talked about this article for kind of a while. We were leaned over the table and— this is so stupid, but, it was like everything had finally clicked. And I even thought the idea was fascinating, you know… that how much intimacy you feel toward a person is dictated by how they respond to you… by how well reflected you are in them. But then he—”

She harrumphed. “It’s not that simple.”

“If you say so.”

Suddenly I was back there, hunched over that dirty wooden table, remembering watching this man ramble on in the pale blue shadow of a neon PBR sign about his idea for an experiment and how I had been so valuable in developing the end product— as if he hadn’t just destroyed me.

“I do say so.”

“Well it seems that simple since that article was the basis for his annoyingly successful catfishing scheme. ‘Can you program the perfect partner?’ he actually proceeded to pitch me on his mirror bot. He wanted to start some eCompanionship service for the elderly and otherwise socially inept and wanted me to invest.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right?”

“How did you respond? Obviously you didn’t bite.”

“Oh, I did.”

“You did what?”

“I invested. Gave him $500 for a 10% stake.”

She dropped her notebook, looking exasperated.

“You’re joking.”

“Well, I would be stupid not to, right?”