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witharsenicsauce · 4 years

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Chosen Stories From the War #27: The House That Death Forgot, Part 3

(Content warning: this chapter contains descriptions of blood/gore, death, and mentions of suicide)

The night never seemed to come. It was like the sun hung over the hills in a perpetual state of anxiety, never settling, never closing it’s glaring eye. The Chosen and their human compatriots sat in the office, a feeling of morose trepidation overtaking them: time passed, on and on, and yet seemed to sit so very still.

Zhang was flipping through the books on the shelves and the papers on the desk, on a hunt for something, perhaps something to tell him there was a way out of this nightmare. Malinalli was, once again, tending to Kon-Mai’s injured leg, despite the Shrinemaiden insisting it was unnecessary. It seemed her brothers were meditating, and even though the Darkstrider had never been one to proactive his psionics before, this time he had joined his brother, perhaps in the hope that it would get them an answer. Any answer.

Kon-Mai looked up at Zhang as he angrily closed the book he held, tossing it on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat beside her, hesitating a bit to calm himself enough to hold a conversation “...How is your leg?” He finally asked.

“I feel no pain from it.” She assured him. “Though our medic insists I do not walk on it, anyhow.”

“Just because it doesn’t hurt doesn’t mean you aren't damaging it!” Malinalli snapped. She had been irritable since returning from her conversation with Ya’uq, and everyone had been keeping to her instructions to avoid incurring the wrath of this 5’5 force of nature.

“I know.” Kon-Mai looked Zhang up and down, leaning closer to whisper. “That girl...”

Zhang sighed, absently thumbing through the pages of the old book in his hand. “That girl?”

“The one who attacked my brother and I.” She said. “You knew her before?”

Zhang had retold them the story he had told Annette and Bryni, his eyes sorrowful as he did. There had not been much to say at the time, but they had all been left with questions they did not know how to ask. “Yes.” He sighed. “The year was 1959. We kept the children with us through December, and returned her and her siblings at the beginning of 1960. What a way to start the decade.”

Something else was weighing on Kon-Mai’s mind though. “...Then you are incredibly old, Colonel Zhang.”

He looked up at her with an almost blank expression. “...And?”

“And yet you fight like a man in his prime.” She shifted so her good leg was under her like a cushion. “Impressive for someone who is at least…” She did the math in her head. “At least 97.”

“99.” He grumbled. “...I am very old, I know.”

“How?” She asked.

“The Grace of the Elder’s Gifts.” He turned to look at her. “You hardly age either, Kon-Mai: they had to test that process somewhere.”

Kon-Mai didn’t know what to say to that, but thankfully, she didn’t need to think long. Annette stood up, a book in hand. “Chilong, you can read Tagalog, you said?”

“I speak better than I read.” He got to his feet. “But I can read it alright.”

She handed the book to him; a spiral bound notebook with a blue butterfly pattern on the front. “The dates are labeled between the years of 1960-62.”

“Frilly notebook.” Gur-Rai opened his eyes and got to his feet. “I don’t want to needlessly gender, but do you think-”

“It could be Bulan’s?” Annette nodded. “If Chilong can translate, we’ll find that out.”

Zhang looked away, and Kon-Mai could see there were tears in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can.” He said, and they knew that it had nothing to do with the language.

“Colonel, I know ya feel bad.” Bryni said. “But if that girl’s as old as ya say, maybe she knew what was happenin’. People don’t just stay young n’ pretty forever for no reason.”

“We still need to get out of here.” Gur-Rai said. “It sucks that she died, but it’s going to suck a lot more if we all die with her.”

Annette flipped open the first page, and pushed the book toward Zhang, who reluctantly took a seat on the floor and cleared his throat.

She closed the door to the attic quietly. She had not had to remain so silent in a long time, but now she could feel him, and he could feel her.

Or had it always been so? She had felt reprieve when he was locked away in the cellar. Behind the thick stone walls it was hard for him to invade her mind, but because of that reprieve, she had become sloppy. When Bulan closed her eyes, she was there with him, looking through his purple gaze. She could feel him pressing against her eye sockets, looking through her eyes into her world. Coming. She heard his thoughts. I am coming. I am here for you.

What do you want?

Not want.

Bulan had tried to imagine death once before, and what consumed his mind felt just like that, so empty and horrifying, nothing and everything, blackness surrounding them.

Death. Death.

“January 27th, 1960.” Zhang read aloud. “Father has built another gate around our property. He’s thinking of sealing up the secret entrance, but the cook uses it to bring in deliveries. He still doesn’t know I like to sneak out into the garden at night.”

“Pretty mundane so far.” Annette said. “Like a...normal girl.”

“Mother said the new baby is going to be a girl.” Zhang continued. “I’m already tired from the other little ones, I wish she would practice some restraint. She just told me when I get married, I’ll understand.” He turned the page. “February 3rd, 1960.”

“Kon-Mai’s birthday!” Gur-Rai winked.

Zhang shot him a look. “School rules apply here, no talking while I’m talking.”

Gur-Rai crossed his arms.

“Father’s been in a lot of meeting’s recently. He won’t tell us the subject matter like he used to. It doesn’t make his activities any less illegal if he stops talking about them. It just makes it so we live in darkness. February 14th, 1960. I spent time in the garden with Ali and Isanagi. My brothers have a talent for making flowers grow and Isanagi in particular has palms that are very green.”

“Palms that are green?” Malinalli chimed in.

“I believe you’d know it as having a green thumb.” Zhang clarified, and then kept on reading. “March-”

“Why don’t you just skip until you find something interesting?” Gur-Rai cut in once again.

Zhang glared at him. “This is interesting to me.”

“Yes, but does it help us?” Even so, he leaned his elbow on his knee as though to get comfortable.

Zhang ignored him, but even so he flipped though a good amount of pages. “March 2nd, 1962. There have been amazing meteor showers all this month. Mother said we aren’t allowed to stay up late, but last night I snuck the little ones outside to watch it. I am glad I did so, because last night was particularly beautiful, and the meteors that fell were the size of stars themselves. I even felt one hit the earth. The very ground trembled.”

Kon-Mai scooted closer. “A meteor shower is never so common on Earth.”

“...March 5th, 1962. The gardener saw something...strange. A creature, he said. It must have been a monkey of some kind, because it was as small as a child but walked upright on two legs. Mother thinks it may be an orphan from the nearby city coming to rummage in our scraps. When we told my father, he panicked and locked up the entire house, said no one goes in or out. We tried to tell him he is paranoid but he says he will not risk his family again. We are so privileged he would ignore a starving child? I’m going to go out tonight with some food. There is no doubt I can help.”

Zhang hesitated, and turned the book so the others could see what was written next. The entry was scrawled hastily, as though in a panic.

“Not a child. Not a child. It’s not even human. It’s skin is grey and it’s eyes, it’s eyes...” He trailed off. “That’s where that one ends.”

“A creature the size of a child, with grey skin…” Kon-Mai looked between Annette and Zhang, who were nodding.

“Sectoids. Or at least, that was what they used to look like.” Annette looked deeply troubled. “But this is from 1962. The invasion happened in 2015.”

“Our invasion happened in 2015.” Gur-Rai clarified. He did not elaborate, but they could all tell what he was implying.

Zhang kept on reading. “March 6th. I told Mother and Father about what I saw, and Father has confined me to my room for the rest of the week. Mother believes what I saw was a mangalo. Father has been on the phone with the company who installed our gates, he thinks it’s someone else who has come to steal us away again. I don’t know what I think it was. I don’t know what I’d rather it be.

March 15th. Mother and Father are fighting more and more often. Mother wants to rehire some of the old security guards but Father refuses, says they’ll sell us out just like last time. He keeps the doors locked and the windows covered. I can hear the creatures outside, skittering in the bushes. Last night I heard tapping on my window as I slept. I didn’t look, I was too scared.”

Kon-Mai sighed. “That poor child.”

“April 8th. Father has taken to staying up all night. He walks the halls like a ghost, shining his flashlight out the windows at the slightest shadow. I can feel a heaviness in the air. The days have been dark. When I looked out the crack in my window, there was something glowing purple outside.

April 23rd. Marikit is ill, she came down with a fever last night. No other symptoms, her nose is not stuffy but she is wheezing. I have noticed I have had slight trouble breathing as well. Father is up day and night; he says there’s a tall man outside, waiting to snatch us away. Mother is pleading with him to let us out, if only just to take the baby to a doctor, but he yells at her: he says the evil men have returned to kill us, and he isn’t going to let that happen.

May 1st. No one has gone in or out in months. The phones don’t work anymore, and Father is insistent that that means they cut the lines. Marikit keeps getting worse and worse, and now Laarni and Ali are sick as well. Mother has locked the door to the bedroom and won’t open it, I can hear her crying day and night. Tonight I looked out the window and I saw him. The tall man.”

“I’m gonna guess the tall man is our wrinkly friend.” Gur-Rai added.

“I reckon.” Bryni nodded in agreement. Her voice was soft and sad.

“...May 7th, 1962. Father took his gun and went to kill the tall man. He said he wouldn't let anyone hurt us ever again. I begged him not to.” Zhang paused, scanning over the journal’s blank lines. “May 8th. I found Father’s shotgun on the front porch. The door was wide open. My head is heavy and my throat is burning. Mother won’t open the door. All the little ones are sick…” He stopped, his face twisting into a look of horror.

“Zhang?” Annette reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?’

“...May 8th. I’m sorry little ones. I hope we meet again…” He ran his hand along the lines of text. “...May 9th. I put the shotgun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. I felt my skull being ripped apart. I felt myself fading. And then I awoke again.”

There was a collective gasp from the room, and everyone held that shock for just a moment. Zhang continued.

“I tried again, this time pointing at my heart. My chest exploded and I couldn’t breathe, and then I could once again.”

Kon-Mai got to her feet, her face pale. “She has already died once before.”

“I am in Hell.” Zhang’s voice shook as he read. “Damned to live in suffering and agony for all eternity, trapped within this house that death forgot.”

Maybe they could have helped, Bulan thought.

It was a stupid thought. They were just as trapped as her. Most of them even stank of the same psionic power that Ya’uq smelled of. They reeked of the sulfur and metal that filled her senses when she tried to take her own life. Even if they stood a chance to hurt him, and she knew for a fact they couldn’t, no one could. Except for her.

She picked up her shotgun and closed her eyes. I know you can hear me.

She speaks. Ya’uq seemed to chuckle, tickling the deep regions of her mind. You speak to me, child.

I sealed you away once before. I can do it again.

No. No more hiding. No more rotting away. Like the moon steals the sun’s light, your life is already mine.

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Then, Zhang dropped the book and let out a noise, somewhat between a laugh and a cry.

“She can’t die.” He whispered, his head in his hands. “She can’t die.”

“Then she’s still in this house somewhere.” Annette sounded afraid and was already reaching for her pistol.

Zhang stood. “No. No, not again. We have to help her this time, if she has been trapped here since 1962…” He clenched his fists. “Taymallat, I did this to her.”

“Zhang, don’t be ridiculous.” Annette insisted. “You didn’t send the Elder here. You didn’t trap her.”

“No, but I was the reason her father locked them away, why he didn’t hire armed guards that could, maybe, have helped them. Instead he tried to fight what was essentially God with a shotgun.”

“Hey, a shotgun can do wonders on the right god.” Gur-Rai winked. “I should know.”

“Well it wasn’t enough.” Zhang snapped. “She’s all alone in here, I destroyed her life once. I have to save her.”

“And in doing so, perhaps we will save ourselves.” Kon-Mai added. “We must locate the girl. She is the secret to unlocking this cursed place.”

“Yeah.” Gur-Rai jabbed at the door. “But to do that we gotta risk running into old wrinkly out there.”

“Perhaps...” Dhar-Mon finally spoke up, taking a deep breath as he broke his trance. The flecks of purple psionic energy that rained around him spun and disappeared like petals in the wind. “Or perhaps we can call her to us.”

“You think she’ll listen?” Bryni asked.

“It needs to be someone she’d trust.” Annette said. “Chilong, she knows you.”

“She hates me.” He crossed his arms. “No trust there.”

Malinalli folded her arms. “I could give it a shot.” She said. “I have the psionics.”

“You’re not even from the same country.” Annette said. “And I don’t suppose you speak Tagalog?”

Malinalli looked away, seeming to blush in humiliation. There was a collective silence all around.

“I’ll do it.” Bryni finally chirped.

“You? She doesn’t know you at all!”

“Yeah, but I ain’t got no glowy power, and I’m 100% home grown.” She gave them a small, two fingered salute. “Human to human, woman to woman? I betcha I can get her to talk.”

Annette and Zhang exchanged glances, and Kon-Mai nodded. “It is our best option, considering.”

“Righty-ho.” Bryni plopped down beside Dhar-Mon. “What do I do, Big Guy.”

Dhar-Mon rolled his eyes and held out his hands. “Do not do anything. Completely clear your mind, and let me guide you.”

“That won’t be hard.” Bryni giggled and tapped her head. “There ain’t much up there ta begin with.”

To Bryni, this felt kind of like her first time flying. She had no control over where she went, hurdling over the dips and bobs in the air, incapable of managing the way her body reacted to the sheer excitement. Except her body wasn’t even there, which was pretty good because she would have spewed the remains of her last lunch.

Her vision was a swirl of purple light and deep, cold darkness, a void so encompassing that if she looked too close, it threatened to swallow her. She rode the waves, keeping her mind blank like Dhar-Mon had told her to, until suddenly it felt as though she were being squeezed, like the walls were pressing in around her. She took a gasping breath of air, and suddenly-

She was in another room, at the end of a long, dark hallway. At the other end, she recognized the young woman from before, her long black hair coving the bloodstains on her once white blouse. Her back was to Bryni as she peeked around another corner.

“Um…” Bryni cleared her throat. “Howdy!”

Bulan jumped, pointing her gun at Bryni. She wasn’t sure if a bullet would hurt her in this form, but she put her hands up nonetheless.

“Woah there!” She tried to speak calmly. “Settle down, girl. I ain’t here to hurt ya.”

“Ikaw ang babae.” Bulan said. “Sa pangunahing bulwagan.”

“Um…” Bryni was already running into a problem. “I...don’t speak Tagalog.”

Bulan looked irritated, but instead of firing, she bit the inside of her lip and lowered her gun. She seemed to be thinking.

“You...don’t speak English?”

Bulan knew enough to shake her head to that.

“Psionics can’t do the translating, can they?” Bryni half-heartedly chuckled. “...Guess not.”

Bulan took a step towards her. “...Paano...hay...del español?”

“You know Spanish?” Bryni perked up. “No, wait, not me, my...um...mi amiga!” Bryni said excitedly. “Oh god, I had about a year of this and it was in elementary school.” She waved her hands wildly. “Mi amiga speak español!”

Bulan couldn’t help but giggle at that, especially when Bryni made a talking motion with her hand. “Um...dónde?”

“We’re...uh…” Bryni looked around. “...We’re in an office.”

Bulan shook her head. Even if she knew what Bryni meant, she had no idea which room she was referring to. Bryni tried to chew her thumbnail before remembering she was essentially a projection at the moment. Hmm...

“C’mere.” Bryni gestured for her to come closer. “I wanna show ya.”

Bulan looked hesitant.

“Por favor?”

The girl hesitated, then took a few steps toward Bryni, close enough so that the pilot could reach out and put one finger against Bulan’s forehead.

She imagined herself walking through the halls, from the room they thought Bulan had died in, to the maze off halls. Left, another left, right, through a door…

Bulan pulled away, but when Bryni looked up at her, her face was glowing with a smile. “Ang silid ng pagguhit!” She picked up her shotgun. “Alam ko ang lugar na iyon! Kikitain kita!”

“Hold up!” Bryni called after her as Bulan took off down the hall. “Uh...I’ll see you there?” She looked up as though she were talking to God. “Okay Big Man. Pull me out.”

Same rush, same feeling of bobbing up and down, and suddenly she felt solid again, the floor underneath her and people around her.

Bryni opened her eyes and gave a thumbs up. “Looks like she’s headed our way.”

“Hopefully she isn’t stopped by that demon outside.” Dhar-Mon got to his feet. “What did she say?”

“Nothin’ I could understand.” Bryni shrugged. “But-”

There was a thud, then a rabid banging noise against the door, and the group looked around warily.

“That oughta be her.” Bryni said.

In any case, Gur-Rai and Annette still cocked their guns as Kon-Mai walked over, put one hand against the door, and pulled it open.

He wondered why even after all these years, he had never managed to free himself of this mortal coil. He had never shed this dying body and finally ascended.

Ya’uq felt his old, old body breaking down around him. Even as his psionics held everything in place, even as he slowed time to an agonizing crawl, he could feel milliseconds slipping through his fingers. Milliseconds of precious consciousness that he could not afford to lose.

Do not go gently into that dark night. He would rage against the dying of the light.

Bulan Kepa pushed past her and stepped inside, looking around, sneering at Zhang. She looked around warily at the others before her eyes settled on Bryni. “Kaibigan mo?”

Bryni gestured to Malinalli, who waved hesitantly, looking very confused. “Um…?”

“She said she speaks a little Spanish!” Bryni cut in. “So I said to talk to ya.”

“Oh!” Malinalli looked pleased. “Oh, yeah, I can definitely translate!”

Zhang crossed his arms and said nothing.

Bulan stepped forward, still unsure about the people surrounding her. “Tu...la amiga?”

“Sí, también soy la oficial médica.” Malinalli had to physically stop herself from speaking so fast, as the poor girl didn’t seem to have a good handle on the language. “Si tiene alguna herida, puedo tratarla.”

“Oficial...médica?” Bulan’s face seemed to light up. “Maaari kang makatulong? Puede...usted ayudar?”

Malinalli nodded and began to reach for her tools, but Bulan stopped her.

“Hindi ako, hindi ako. No *me ayudas.” She was practically bouncing as she began pulling Malinalli towards the door.

“No.” Dhar-Mon stepped in front of her. “Where are you taking her?”

“Ilipat, por favor!” Bulan seemed to be shaking. “Ang mga maliliit!”

“The little ones.” Zhang said, finally fed up with the guessing and the shaking and the state of confusion everyone was in. “She has four siblings, Malinalli, and I assume she wants you to see them.”

Malinalli looked at Bulan. “Tus hermanos?”

Bulan nodded, pointing out the door. “Por favor.” She cried. “Please.”

They could hear Ya’uq still dragging himself along the halls. As they passed the second floor balcony, now partially destroyed, they heard him muttering to himself down in the foyer and saw hints of his sporadic purple glow. Kon-Mai reached for her brothers’ hands, either for her own protection or theirs.

Zhang hesitated before they lost sight of him, and for a moment he could tell Ya’uq sensed him. The Elder reached out with his mind, and while Zhang blocked his advance, the demon pried one thing from the black depths.

Gone. Ya’uq reeled back. The others are gone.

Zhang turned and followed the group back up to the attic.

The door was the only thing at the top of a flight of stairs, isolated from the main house yet still accessible enough to be a logical place for children to sleep. Bulan led the way, turning to Malinalli, who looked confused.

“...Realmente puedes...ayuda?” Bulan asked.

Malinalli hesitated, unsure if she should give the answer she usually did. Nothing was certain on the battlefield and in here it was even less so. But Bulan still had her gun.

She nodded.

Bulan opened the door, and right away they were hit with the smell of rot. Most of them cringed, and Gur-Rai actually had to turn away, covering his face as though he would vomit if he could.

Malinalli, unfazed by the smell, stepped inside. She had seen the worst of the worst in bootcamp, but as she saw what was causing this stench, even this made her gasp.

The first thing she saw was the baby: practically an infant, still in her crib. Or, rather, it appeared to be what remained of an infant, her skeletal body only barely keeping hold of her dry skin. She looked around, the beds growing in size, each one holding a child more emaciated than the last, all of them nearly dead…

“What happened?!” She cried, before she took a breath, putting her profession face back on. “Qué les pasó a las niños?”

“Nagkasakit sila nang lumitaw ang manglo.” She answered in Tagalog, pausing for a moment.

“She says they fell ill when the mangalo...the Sectoids first arrived.” Zhang translated for her.

Bulan pointed her gun at him, and he held up his hands. Dhar-Mon stepped between the two. “There is no need for that. We are not your enemy.”

Bulan seemed shaken, her eyes still trapped on Zhang’s face. “...Matanda ka.” Lowering her gun, she took a fistful of her own, black hair, staring at it. “......Ano ang itsura ko?”

“How old do you look? Young.” Zhang answered in English at first, not thinking. “You look young. Ang parehong edad noong nakilala kita.”

She lowered her rifle as Malinalli turned back to her. “These children are…” She began. “They should be dead...ellos deberían estar muertos.”

Bulan shook her head. “No...Ellos viven. Ellos respiran.”

“Yes but…” She put a hand on her chest. “My chest...my body is filled with moisture. Mi cuerpo esta lleno de humedad.” She knelt down beside the bed where the second eldest, Diwata, lay, and put a hand on her chest. “Her blood pressure is zero. Su presión arterial es cero. No hay sangre para bombear. No hay vida.”

Bulan shook her head once again. “No!”

“Bulan.” Zhang said. “When Ya’uq came here, what did he do to you? Ano ang ginawa sa iyo ni Ya'uq?”

She refused to answer, power walking over to her siblings once again. “Mentirosa!” She spat at Malinalli. “Salvarlos a todos!”

“I’m trying!” Malinalli cried.

“Bulan, we must know what Ya’uq’s part in this is.” Dhar-Mon stepped forward. “If he is behind the state of your siblings, then we must know.”

“Hindi ko alam kung paano niya ito ginagawa!” Bulan let out a sob.

“She doesn’t know how…” Zhang raised a brow. “...But you know it’s him? Ya’uq?”

Bulan nodded.

“Then we remove him.” Kon-Mai reached for her sword. “If we eliminate the demon, then he shall release the children’s souls.”

“Hindi mo siya papatayin.” Bulan looked up with purple fire glowing in her eyes.

“She says we can’t kill him.” Zhang said. “Bakit?”

“Dahil pinipigilan niya ang oras na lumipat.” She said.

“He keeps time from passing…?” Zhang’s eyes grew wide. “Kon-Mai.”

“Yes?”

“Your leg still doesn’t hurt, does it.?”

“No…” She blinked. “...And it should, by now.”

“He has done something to affect the flow of time.” Dhar-Mon exclaimed. “I did not know psionics could. But why…?”

“He’s doing something to them.” Zhang spat. “He’s feeding off of them, draining their life force, but at the end of all of it he slows down time, so much it’s practically stopped.”

“To keep them from actually dying.” Annette whispered. “This way, the family never dies.”

Zhang looked at Bulan once again, his eyes harsher than they had been. “You look fine. Better than fine. Kaya bakit hindi ka sakit?”

Her eyes glowing purple still, Bulan turned her back on him refusing to answer what sounded like an accusation. She turned back to Malinalli, leaning on her gun carelessly. “Quiero...mis hermanos sanados.”

Malinalli took a breath. “I can’t…” She shook her head. “No puedo curarlas. Even if we went back to the Avenger, they’d surely die in transport-”

Bulan cocked her gun at her and pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed past Malinalli’s face, and Dhar-Mon pulled her into his arms and held up his hand: purple energy, rivaling Bulan’s, glowing in his palm.

“We are trying to HELP YOU!” He spat. “If you harm her, you will face the wrath of TWO DEMONS TONIGHT!”

“Brother, stop!” Kon-Mai cried.

“Sige at subukan! Hindi mo siya papatayin!” She bared her teeth.

“There must be a way to kill him, Bulan.” Zhang stepped forward, his hands up.

She let out the breath she seemed to be holding, letting her gun arm drop, and nodded. “Nasaktan ko si Ya'uq. Sa harap.”

“You hurt him?” Zhang gasped.

She nodded, then let down her gun for a moment. She hesitated, reaching back to undo the ribbon cinching her shirt at her waist.

The crew gathered in closer, curious as to what she was about to reveal. She let drop the ribbon, turned and lifted her shirt to reveal a gaping hole, pulsating and empty, nearly revealing her spine. There was no blood, but they could easily see the meat within.

“That looks like it hurts!” Bryni cried.

“One can...grow accustomed to pain.” Kon-Mai said quietly. “Vox Ya’uq did this?”

“No.” She said, her voice sounding almost sad. “Nang ikinulong ko siya, binaril ko siya sa likuran…”

“...And your wound comes from a shotgun...” Zhang said softly. “Your wounds appear on him. And his on you.”

“But that means y’all can hurt each other!” Bryni cried. “Y’all can die! Maybe if you...” She trailed off, realizing what that meant.

“Anong taon?” Bulan’s question cut her off. “Que año es? Ahora?”

Zhang bit his lip, swallowing. “...The year?” He sighed. “2040.”

Bulan let out a soft chuckle, stepping slowly into the middle of the room. “Kung gayon. Ano ang punto?” She sat down, cross legged, on the floor of the bedroom. “Everything I love...dead...or here.”

Gur-Rai looked up as he heard someone approaching from the stairs. His position of leaning against the wall was slightly uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to sit, in case he had to spring back up into action again.

He saw his sister coming down the stairs, limping slightly on her broken leg, and he took that chance, jumping up and going to help her. “So?”

She sighed. “There is much to consider.”

“Oh really?”

She nodded, settling on the last stair and letting her leg rest. “Vox Ya’uq can be killed.”

“...And?” He raised a brow. “That’s a good thing, yet you sound like you’re disappointed.”

“He can only be killed by Bulan herself.” She elaborated. “My striking off his hand slowed him down, but according to Malinalli he has already regrown the limb. And Bulan has survived a shot to the neck…”

Gur-Rai pursed his lips. “So I’m guessing that’s why she can’t die either.”

“The two are…” She sighed. “It is a more powerful psionic link than I’ve ever seen. They are effectively immortal. The only wounds that remain are those that are dealt at the hand of the other.”

“So why doesn’t she just kill him?” He asked. “And he’s been wandering this place for ages, why hasn’t he killed her?”

“His presence is what is keeping her dying siblings alive…” Kon-Mai’s voice cracked a bit and she cleared her throat.

“Alive? I can smell the mold from down here.” He shuddered.

“That is the children.”

“Great.” Gur-Rai hugged himself. “And she doesn’t see how keeping them alive is cruel and unusual?”

Kon-Mai hesitated at that. “...I would like to walk for a bit.”

“Your leg-”

“Is in no more danger of breaking than before.” She said as she stood. “I need to get away from that place. It’s making me ill.”

They made their way down the empty hall, watching for the Elder. They could feel him, his aura similar to the elders they knew and “loved”, but it felt much older. It faded in and out like a receding tide.

The hallway felt like it was endless, and the silence felt like it was crushing. Kon-Mai stopped short and Gur-Rai looked up at the door they had just stopped in front of. That same smell of rot was coming from behind it, and he swore he heard whispering.

“...Didn’t that diary say her mom locked herself in her room?”

Kon-Mai nodded. The two exchanged nervous glances and stepped forward, reaching for each other first, then the handle of the door.

Negotiating was useless.

They had all piled out into the hall when it became clear that Bulan was no longer listening to their attempts at bargaining. She had effectively shut down at this point, refusing to respond to anyone unless it was in relation to one of the dying children.

“We can’t leave.” Annette repeated for the tenth time. “That...thing, he’s keeping us here.”

“...Do you think we’ll end up like them?” Malinalli asked. “If the children began wasting away when Ya’uq arrived, who’s to say this isn’t his plan? Trap people in here, suck them dry, leave them like that for all eternity.”

“The Elders…” Dhar-Mon’s voice was unusually quiet. “The Elders were always talking about the great void beyond death, how it was a demise to be feared. Who is to say Ya’uq is not also seeking some sort of eternal life?”

“Well that’s right comforting.” Bryni put a hand on her hip, playing with her gun. “Look, the Elders ain’t immortal, and Little Miss Death comes for everybody. I say we take our guns and go at the fucker with everything we got.”

They all turned and stared at Bryni like she had finally snapped. “That’s a terrible idea.” Annette deadpanned.

“It’s the only idea.” Bryni retorted. “Unless you wanna go back in there and convince Bulan to die for us.”

“They have to kill each other.” Dhar-Mon rubbed his temples. “And when one dies…”

“Yep.” Bryni looked away. “Ain’t that how it goes?”

Gur-Rai and Kon-Mai came jogging back down the hall, their faces pale-or as pale as they could seem with already blue skin.

“Are you two alright?!” Dhar-Mon cried, pushing past the group and running to his younger siblings. “Do not run off where I cannot see you! You could get hurt!”

“We’re not children, Brother.” Kon-Mai grumbled, leaning against the wall. “We must prepare some kind of strike against Ya’uq. We cannot stay here.”

“We were just discussing that.” Malinalli said. “I agree we should at least try...better than sitting here to rot.”

There was collective silence all around. And then…

Annette sighed. “Let’s try and get some rest first. Then, we fight God.”

“I’d say he’s the Devil.” Gur-Rai shrugged. “But let the theologians debate that.”

Even the night had a strange brightness hanging over it, the sun refusing to fully, properly descend into the horizon. The group had settled in a nearby room, the remains of what looked like was one of the children's bedrooms.

Crammed into the tight space, the Chosen cuddled up to each other. Kon-Mai lay in the center of both of her brothers’ embraces, while Dhar-Mon wrapped his large body as best he could around the both of his siblings. Gur-Rai slept with his head on his sister’s stomach, using her like a pillow, his only sense sense of comfort in this terrifying place.

The only one not asleep was Zhang. Quietly, he slipped from the room and into the hallway, up the stairs, and to the door that was now locked. Bulan had all but barricaded herself inside, but he could feel her.

“Bulan.” He whispered, his voice scratchy.

At first she didn’t answer, but he heard her shift.

“You don’t have to speak.” He said in Tagalog. “Just listen. I know this was all because of me. The Triad should never have brought you or your siblings into what was your father’s business, and in doing so we all but ruined your chance at a normal life.” He took a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Silence. Then, movement. He felt the door shift just a bit.

“If anyone deserves to be trapped here, it is me.” Zhang continued. “You should be the one who goes free.”

He heard her whimper.

“But please.” He hissed. “I know you love your siblings. You must know that this isn't fair to them. It’s not fair to keep them trapped like this-”

“You kept us trapped.” She growled. “You kept us like this for months. We got to see the sun once a day. I thought you were going to sell my sisters and I into slavery!”

Zhang stood in silence, tears burning his eyes.

“You have no right to tell me what they deserve, old man.” She growled. “You’re just as bad as Ya’uq.”

“...You’re right.” He said quietly. “In that case, the people here cannot leave unless you help them. If not for your siblings-”

Bulan let out a yelping laugh. “Them?! I don’t know any of them!” She spat. “Why should I die for them?!”

“They’re good people!”

“Like you?” She hissed. “There are no good people. There are only those who survive and those who don’t. And we are still alive.” she sounded hesitant for just a moment. “...Please go. If you stay, fine. But don’t expect mercy from me.”

Zhang pulled away from the door, his heart heavy. There would be no winning this battle. They could not even die.

The sun was still not up by the time they woke, but it hung on the horizon and cast a shadow over what remained of the day. It felt as though no time had passed at all.

The Hieromonk woke first, a chilling feeling in his bones as his siblings stirred beside him. They would have to hunt tonight, and he knew this as he shook his brother gently: this was what he was born for after all.

Gur-Rai vaguely swatted at him. “Mmmmn go away.”

“No, Brother. We must wake up.” He shook Kon-Mai at the same time, whispering to her. “How is your leg?”

“Fine.” She said quietly. “Is it time?”

“It’s as good a time as any.” Annette said as she got to her feet, clearly having been awake for hours. “So what now? How do we plan to lure him out?”

“I shall take care of that.” Zhang said.

“Do you want to die very rapidly?” Annette raised a brow. “Because if so that’s clearly the best tactical decision.”

“Nobody can die in this house.” Zhang assured her.

“That doesn't help.” Annette insisted. “Please don’t get hurt.”

He nodded, but the look on his face was empty and sad.

The rest of the party began to stir, Malinalli sitting up against the wall. Her curly hair was a matted, tangled mess, falling out of what remained of her braid, and her eyes looked tired and haunted. She began opening up some rations they brought, but no one took any. No one felt like eating, either from the magic, or the intense feeling of dread.

They went out into the foyer, minding the broken bits of wood, and pushed open the heavy door. Kon-Mai was looking around, her ears picking up every single sound. Gur-Rai was facing behind them, his eagle eyes scanning the room. Dhar-Mon pulled his hammer from his back and stepped forward, out into the garden.

They shifted into the open space of the yard, the glowing flowers reaching out from their stems towards them. They heard a quiet noise behind them, akin to static, and smelled sulfur and rot.

Zhang took a deep breath in and let it out, his eyes glowing. “He is upon us.”

Bulan stared at the window as she saw Ya’uq’s distinct purple glow begin to move through the house towards them. They were doomed. Even if death never came to this place, he would beat them within an inch of their lives and drain them dry. They had no chance to do him any harm.

She looked to her siblings, still confined to their beds. Diwata looked lucid this morning, and she was staring at Bulan, her eyes expectant. As though she were waiting. She always had been the smart one.

Bulan scoffed and shook her head. Even if she helped them, they would still lose. And her family, her happiness, hinged on staying right here. Avoiding Diwata’s piercing eyes, she turned on her heel, leaving the attic and stepping into the dark, musty hallway. The door at the end was open, just a crack. Barely enough to tell someone had gone inside but just enough to know…

“Nanay?” She called out to her mother, and heard a soft sound of movement. Bulan jogged, that jog turned into a sprint as she raced down the hall, eagerly awaiting the warm embrace of her…

She did not scream at the sight of her mother. She could not muster a scream, the sound was stuck in her throat at the shock that awaited her. She could only gaze blankly at the sight of her mother hanging by her neck, from the ceiling that should have rotted years ago but didn’t.

The woman moved, the rotting frames creaking as the rope swung just a bit, and Bulan’s poor mother reached out, her wrinkled hand longing for her daughter’s touch.

Instead of going to her, Bulan looked down at the gun in her hand, and thought of how desperately she wanted to end this suffering. She sank to her knees, the floor underneath her covered in dust that seemed to cover her like a blanket.

This was not fair. Not to them. Not to her. Not to the people trapped here. Not to the little ones. Not to her mother.

The battle did not begin in their favor.

Ya’uq emerged from the darkness of the front door, dragging himself out with his gnarled hands. The group scattered, Kon-Mai drawing her sword and cloaking herself, disappearing into the wind. Dhar-Mon held his hammer but also conjured up his own psionic energy. Gur-Rai grappled to a nearby tree, Malinalli dove for cover, and the rest drew their guns.

They were not here to play games. Zhang gave the order. “Shoot to kill!”

Ya’uq rose up to his full height, raised his arms, and made a sound that suddenly cut across the minds of everyone listening. It felt like a needle piercing the brain. Kon-Mai involuntarily dropped her cloak, and Gur-Rai collapsed from the tree branch he had stood on.

“Live. Live. You all live.” Ya’uq whispered desperately. “I see the void. I cannot die. Don’t let me die.”

Dhar-Mon, recovering from the psionic blow the quickest, tried to rush Ya’uq and did, in fact, manage to swing and slam his hammer into the creature’s hip. For a moment, it seemed as though the wound would stay.

Then with a crunch, Ya’uq’s hip righted itself. The Elder gazed down at Dhar-Mon, purple eyes glowing, and as he raised his arms, Dhar-Mon felt the same stinging pain in his head he’d felt when Bhandasura had nearly killed him. He tried to duck away but collapsed, blood dripping from his nose.

Malinalli screamed and rushed over, throwing herself over the much larger man and right into the path of the Elder. Zhang called out for her, and Annette broke formation and rushed Ya’uq. What her plan was, no one would know, because Ya’uq swatted her aside like she weighed nothing. She across the yard, her back hitting the greenhouse and cracking the glass, nearly shattering it.

Kon-Mai rushed forward toward the beast, but though her leg did work it was still a sore point, and it slowed her down enough that Ya’uq got the jump on her. She swung and, like always, the blade hit it’s target, but Ya’uq seemed to not even notice it, and instead he grabbed the Chosen woman by her braids and slammed her head into the ground, leaving her dazed.

Zhang fired, again and again, but if he was hitting this creature (and he honestly wasn’t sure if he was), then his bullets were doing less than nothing. The Chosen themselves couldn’t bring this thing down. There really was no winning…

Then he heard it. The footsteps.

Bulan stepped from the house, practically glowing in the low light. Ya’uq turned his gaze on her, his eyes wide.

Their eyes met, as though they were having an entire conversation without speaking. For a moment, it looked as though they had known each other their entire lives. This was the reunion of old friends.

Bulan said nothing as she pointed her shotgun forward, and Ya’uq roared and charged her, trying to stop her.

As the first hit tore into Ya’uq, splitting the Elder’s chest open in a shower of purple ichor, so too did a stain of red splatter on Bulan’s shirt. She cried out, stopping briefly, long enough for Ya’uq to sweep her away with his hand, causing her to drop her gun as she fell to the side. She got back to her feet, holding her now very injured chest and struggling to breathe. He would never deal the killing blow, but she saw him grab for her again and slid out of the way, only just missing his grabbing hands.

Ya’uq let out a roar that shook the very foundations of the house, bringing down some of the intricate baroque stonework. Those who were standing fell to their knees, and those already on the ground tried to cover their heads. Bulan frantically searched for her shotgun but it had disappeared into the aether.

“Hey.” A gravely voice hissed, and Gur-Rai tapped the ground near her. He was laying in the bushes under the tree, and she looked over, their eyes meeting. With a toothy grin, he pulled his machete from his belt and tossed it to her. “Use that.”

She looked down at the machete, smiled, and nodded at him. Getting back to her feet, she took a breath and charged, not daring to waste a second.

The first swipe cut so deep into Ya’uq’s hip it sent him tumbling to the ground on his knees. Bulan too faltered, but she miraculously kept her footing despite the blinding pain. Unyielding, she did not think, she simply swung at him, cutting across his eyes. Her scream was almost as loud as his, but she was undeterred, even though her vision was quite literally nothing but red.

Ya’uq reached out for her one last time, and it looked almost like he was begging. One last word. Please.

One fell swoop. As he bent over, Bulan shoved the blade into Ya’uq’s skull, cracking it wide open. He screamed, the air around him turning to static and pain. Purple light flashed from him for only a moment before his body curled in on itself, limbs bending like a dead spider as he spasmed, then with one last whimper, fell still

Bulan stood tall and triumphant for just a moment, as the darkness in the sky began to lift away. The sun hit her face, the warmth and the light…

Then she fell backwards into the dust. Zhang ran to where Bulan was collapsed, the darkness surrounding them lessening with every step. As he reached her, he saw her chest rising and falling, but his relief was short lived when he saw the blood trickling down her face, and the gaping, bloody wound in her own skull.

“Shaojie…” She hissed, but it was not malicious.

“Nandito ako.” He knelt beside her. “I am so, so sorry. You should not have had to do this.”

She whimpered, closing her bloody eyes as best she could. “The little ones. Are they okay?”

Zhang looked around at his team, each of them beginning to clamber to their feet. Gur-Rai, no doubt coming over to get his sword back, knelt down a foot or so from Bulan, his face grave. Kon-Mai was still curled on the ground, wheezing from pain, but Malinalli and Dhar-Mon were already up and attending to her.

Zhang nodded, sinking to his knees as Annette ran over to them. “They’re okay now, Bulan.”

She closed her eyes, tears mixing with the blood. She clasped her hands over the wound in her chest, and he saw her trembling.

“It’s okay…” He said quietly, and Annette stepped closer to her and knelt at the girl’s head, wiping the tears and blood from her face.

“Nanay…” Bulan sniffled. “Nasaan ang nanay ko?” Her eyes were flickering.

Annette took hold of one of her hands, Zhang the other, and in her last breaths, Bulan began to sing.

“Ili-ili tulog anay,

Wala diri imong nanay…”

Her voice faltered, once, and the last lyrics were said in what was barely a whisper. “Kadto tienda bakal papay.

Ili-ili tulog anay.”

They laid Bulan in one of the attic beds, alongside her siblings, her eyes closed peacefully as though she were asleep. The blankets pulled up around her made it seem so: she was simply sleeping, and at the end of this nightmare, she would wake up.

Maybe one day she would, Zhang thought as he closed the door for the last time. He descended the stairs, the empty mansion whispering to him as he did. He felt lighter somehow, as though being here had lifted an old weight he still suffered with.

Kon-Mai’s leg was throbbing so much just thinking made her want to scream, so Dhar-Mon was charged with carrying her back to the Skyranger. He had been worried for Gur-Rai after his fall, but his brother insisted that all he had were a few scratches. “Nothing like what our poor sister went through.”

“And nothing like that poor girl…” Kon-Mai retorted, her voice weak and tired. “We should create a memorial for her in the Avenger.”

“Her and her siblings.” Dhar-Mon sighed. “She fulfilled her duty to her family. She saved them.”

“What duty, Brother?” Gur-Rai raised a brow.

“The eldest sibling must protect the younger.” He said. “It is why I protect you.”

“Hey now.” Gur-Rai gently punched him in the arm. “Don’t go imprisoning an ancient god to keep me alive, you hear me?”

“Brother.” Kon-Mai insisted. “I would never wish for you to suffer that fate. We all protect each other.” She smiled. “If one of us falls, would the others not be lost?”

The rest of the exhausted party followed them back down the dirt path, through the trees to the very dusty and slightly sunbleached Skyranger. Bryni kicked open the cockpit and lowered the ramp. “WHOOEE! Poor baby ain’t been cleaned in days!” She laughed. “Well come on everyone! Don’t dilly dally!”

“I must confess, even if it led to this, I’m happy you sent that distress signal.” Zhang admitted to Annette when they entered.

“I suppose I am glad to be out of that wretched place.” Annette nodded. “Thank you, for me and for Bulan.”

“I am thankful we could help her.” Zhang sighed. “...If we truly did.”

“She and her siblings are resting now.” Annette assured him. “We did what we could.”

“I know.” He looked up, watching the Darkstrider cleaning his blade. “And thank you, Darkstrider.”

“Hm?” He looked up. “Hey, Bulan did the hard work. I just lent her the machete.” He twirled it in his hand. “Funny, it doesn’t seem right just calling it that.”

“It doesn’t have a name?” Annette raised a brow.

Zhang buckled his seatbelt. “You know. Bulan’s name...it means moon.” He said quietly. “A symbol of change, and of the passage of time.”

Inside the house, so quiet and still, as the dust began to settle and the light finally began to fade, a door closed upstairs.

The figure of a girl moved through the house, slowly at first, then with the enthusiasm of a child, sprinting freely though the halls. Abandoning her ripped blue skirt, she had donned a pair of slacks from her own father’s closet, and one of her mother’s fine blouses.

She ran out into the garden, sunlight and wind and air, real fresh air, washing over her face. For only a moment she stopped, not wasting a second. She stooped and picked up that old shotgun, her Ol’ Reliable.

She knew he was still out there, but now she knew she could win, and if push came to shove, well, Shaojie did owe her a favor~

In the year 2040, at the young, bright age of 97, Bulan Kepa threw open the gates, and stepped out into the world.

Summary: The party, confined to their hiding spot, begins searching through the papers on the desk for more information about Bulan and her family. Zhang, frustrated, takes a break to talk with Kon-Mai; as it turns out, Zhang is 99 years old thanks to the Elders’ gifts. Later, Annette finds Bulan’s diary from 1962, and it is revealed there was a Sectoid invasion around their home, made worse by her father’s paranoia. It is also revealed that although Bulan attempted suicide, she is unable to die. Using Dhar-Mon’s power, Bryni finds and converses with Bulan, and gets her to agree to meet with them. Upon meeting Malinalli, Bulan takes them to the room her sick siblings are resting in, and asks if Malinalli can fix them. However, the children are so far gone, Malinalli cannot treat them, and it is discovered Ya’uq has been draining them of energy to keep himself alive. Bulan refuses to fight Ya’uq, despite being the only one who can wound him, as doing so would kill her in the process. The group attempts to confront Ya’uq themselves, but he quickly overpowers them, and they are unable to wound him in the slightest. When all seems lost, Bulan realizes her family is suffering and joins the battle, at first being struck down by Ya’uq, but upon acquiring Gur-Rai’s machete, she is able to land a decisive blow, killing him. Zhang runs to her, apologizing to Bulan as she dies, but she simply asks him if her siblings are safe. After assuring her they are, Bulan dies with a lullaby on her lips. The gang returns to the Skyranger, where Zhang reflects on the fact that Bulan’s name symbolizes change and the passage of time.

(And so concludes the spooky saga. I think this one was hard to write because I so desperately wanted it to come out good, and just didn’t believe I was able to do it. I think, however, this did come out pretty decently, and wrapping this up, tying in the lore especially, was extremely fun!

Edit: You may notice there is an afterward that wasn’t there before. Yes! I was sitting on it all day and something felt very...wrong about Bulan’s death at the end, especially with things being how they are. So, I’ve added this epilogue per se. You’ll be seeing her again.)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

#xcom #xcom 2 #xcom war of the chosen #xcom au #haunted house #cw gore #cw suicide

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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In a Heartbeat (Bitney) - opalescentcheetah

A/N: The world needs more Bitney so here’s a little something based off of the short film In a Heartbeat. I wrote this for the Be Mine Week challenge, hosted by @writethehousedown, for the prompt Heart. And a big thank-you to @veronicasanders for beta-ing and always being so supportive!

There she is.

Oh my god, there she is.

Courtney’s heart thuds rapidly in her chest as she less-than-gracefully dives behind a bush. Sharp branches poke her spine, but she hardly notices around the tingling of her skin, the persistent ache behind her ribs.

Today’s the day. You can do this.

It doesn’t matter how long she’s felt this way; every time she sees Bianca feels like the first time. Her heart sings, stealing all her ability to speak, rendering her stupidly breathless. This time is no different.

She’s so beautiful.

Courtney peers out from behind a tree as Bianca wanders past, bouncing an apple in one hand and holding open a book with the other. She seems to glow in the early morning light, with her thick, dark hair pulled up into a ponytail and the blue plaid school dress swishing around her knees. As much as Courtney loathes the uniform, she can appreciate how it brings out Bianca’s sapphire eyes. She’s one of the only students who can wear the ugly, ill-fitting garment and still manage to look like a million dollars.

And suddenly Bianca is pausing, lowering her book, and Courtney’s heart nearly stops when she looks around with narrowed eyes. She ducks back behind the tree, hoping desperately that Bianca didn’t see her watching. She can’t let herself ruin this, not today, not when she’s waiting for the perfect moment.

Courtney is suddenly aware of how fast her heart is thudding. It’s almost as though there is a racehorse in her chest, sprinting down the track, hooves clattering loudly along her ribs. Bianca can probably hear the stadium that’s roared to life in her brain. Hands trembling, Courtney leans back against the sturdy trunk of the tree, waiting for Bianca to move on and forget she ever noticed anything out of the ordinary.

She waits until her heart rate has slowed before she peers out again. Running through her pep talk in her head, she shakes the tension from her shoulders and skips, as casually as possible, back out onto the path. She’s just behind Bianca now, close enough to smell her perfume.

“Hey! Bianca!”

You’ve got this. Just talk to her. You can do this, Courtney!

“Oh, hey, Courtney.” Bianca smiles warmly at her, dimples appearing in her cheeks, and Courtney quite nearly swoons. “What’s up?”

“Not - not much.” Now that she’s here, Courtney’s tongue is suddenly dry. Bianca’s eyes are so piercing, Courtney feels like she’s been cleaved in two. Half of her wants to run away with her tail between her legs, every word she’d prepared left abandoned, whilst the other half wants to at least try and talk to Bianca, to stay standing despite the fact that her bones have turned to jelly.

Her heart hums quietly and makes the decision. She steps closer, twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger. “I was just wondering if–”

“Heeey! Queen B!”

Suddenly there’s an arm being slung around Bianca’s shoulder. Courtney tenses, eyeing the newcomer up and down - it’s Adore Delano, looking like she’s just gotten out of bed and downed three coffees to get to school on time.

“Bianca,” Adore says, grabbing her arm, “you gotta come with, I need to show you these psycho text messages I got last night. Shit is getting real.”

Bianca offers Courtney an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Courtney. Come find me later, okay?”

Fuck. Courtney can only watch as Bianca turns and trails after Adore. Failure rests heavy in her chest, hard and black and ugly. Her tongue still feels like lead.

It might be hours before she moves again, trudging heavily up the stone steps into school. It’s silly, she thinks, to feel like such a failure when she didn’t really fail - and yet here she is, heart aching, lacking the confidence to try again. Not when it’s so easy for Bianca to get distracted.

She pushes open the door and stops at the sight of Bianca, sprawled over on the floor, scowling. Courtney doesn’t hesitate before running over and offering her a hand.

She isn’t prepared for the shock and vulnerability she sees in Bianca’s eyes. Bianca takes her hand, sighing quietly as Courtney pulls her to her feet.

“Thank you,” she mutters, refusing to meet Courtney’s stare.

“That’s - that’s okay.” Courtney is uncomfortably aware of how close they are, of how her hand burns where it has touched Bianca’s. She watches Bianca turn away slightly, sees her glaring defiantly at–

Oh. Oh shit.

Courtney’s heart leaps into her throat. They’re surrounded by people, an ocean of blue plaid and leering glares and suddenly the hallway feels too small, the air is tight, heavy, and Courtney’s mind is racing, her lungs aren’t working–

She runs.

She turns and bolts, scrambling through the door and back out under the open sky. It isn’t until she’s returned to the shelter of the tree that she goes through meditative exercises in her head, taking a moment just to breathe.

Her heart is aching now with remorse and the bitter aftertaste of terror. She’s seen this all before, heard the slurs and insults they’ve flung so ruthlessly at Bianca since the day she came out. No matter how many times she’s watched it happen, she can’t seem to find the courage to stand defiantly beside Bianca, to show her she’s not alone, and it tears her apart with guilt. Instead, she hides in the shadows of the other students, her own secret locked away in the farthest reaches of her mind, back where nobody can see it.

“Courtney?”

Courtney’s eyes snap open to meet an azure stare. She hates seeing the sadness in the face she’s come to love so much.

“Shit, girl, I’m really sorry.” Bianca slides onto the ground beside Courtney, dry leaves crackling beneath her dress. Her voice is unusually heavy, her eyes downcast, and there’s a sting of pain behind Courtney’s ribs. She doesn’t deserve her, doesn’t deserve Bianca’s pity after all those times she left her standing alone.

“Don’t be sorry,” she manages, throat still tight. “I just can’t believe they’re still on about that shit.”

“Well, I can’t believe you’re still surprised,” Bianca huffs bitterly. “Come on, you know the drill. It’s a private girls’ school filled with privileged white Americans - what the fuck else did you expect?”

Courtney isn’t prepared for her words to feel so harsh.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly. “I guess I’ve just always thought that everyone had the ability to be kind and give other people a chance. Even privileged white Americans.”

Bianca seems to see the hurt in Courtney’s eyes and suddenly her face softens. “I didn’t mean you, pussyface,” she says, elbowing Courtney playfully. “You’re one of those weird cases - a privileged white American who can give someone else a chance.”

“You bitch, I’m not even American!” Courtney shrieks, shoving her back. “Don’t tell me I’ve already lost my accent!”

Bianca cackles with laughter.

“Either way, your dumb blonde ass looks the part,” she replies, and Courtney is relieved to see the sparkle returning to her eyes.

“It’s not my fault I was blessed with these perfect genes,” she says, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“I take back everything I said,” Bianca deadpans. “You’re hopeless.”

Courtney giggles, and when they lapse into a companionable silence, she takes a chance, resting her palm on Bianca’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, and Bianca’s gaze darts to her hand, but she doesn’t shrug it off.

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” she tells Courtney. “There’s not much you can do.”

The defeat in Bianca’s voice hits Courtney with a pang of guilt.

“I should’ve stood up for you back there. I’m sor–”

Bianca turns to her, gaze fierce, and Courtney’s words die in her throat.

“Don’t. Don’t apologise for their ignorance, Courtney. It’s not your fault they’re fucking assholes.”

Courtney swallows back another meek apology as she slides her hand back, and Bianca’s gaze pinches in something like regret. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me earlier?” she asks, softer this time.

Courtney’s heart stops.

“I - uh - it was nothing, really.” She’s breathless suddenly, tripping over her words, her mind racing. “It’s not - not important.”

“I see. It’s so unimportant that you had to pull me aside at eight a.m. to talk to me,” Bianca comments wryly, the corner of her lip quirking upwards. “Delano won’t interrupt us here, you know.”

Courtney has to look away from the teasing glint in Bianca’s eyes. “You’re not going to let up until I say something, are you?” she laughs nervously.

Bianca arches an eyebrow, grinning.

“Not just something, girl, say whatever it is that’s turning you into a ripe tomato.”

Oh, shit. Courtney’s hands fly to her face. Her cheeks burn red-hot against her palms, and for a moment she wishes the ground would swallow her whole.

Snap out of it. Now’s your chance… just say it, Courtney! It’s just a few words! Breathe, breathe…

“I… uh… I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out for lunch this weekend,” Courtney blurts out, and her words are suddenly spilling from her mouth in a torrent. “’Cause I… I like you a lot, Bianca. I think you’re really cool, and - and smart, and I just–”

Bianca laughs softly, pressing the pad of her finger to Courtney’s lips. She’s smiling, dimples carved into her skin, and Courtney melts at the gentleness in her eyes. Joy overflows from her heart, once more glowing pink and warm, as Bianca pulls her close for a feathersoft kiss.

Bianca’s lips are tender, careful, a butterfly’s breath against hers, and it’s everything Courtney has ever wanted. Her hand finds Bianca’s, still resting lightly against her cheek, and she holds it there even after they break apart.

“So is that a yes to lunch?” Courtney whispers, breathless.

“Depends what we’re having,” Bianca grins before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

Courtney feels heat flood her skin. “Bianca!” she shrieks, but she can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of her lips.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Bianca’s joy is painted pink across the apples of her cheeks, pressed into the soft edges of her dimples. “Of course it’s a yes, pussyface.”

#rpdr fanfiction #courtney act #bianca del rio #bitney #fluff #lesbian au #high school au #in a heartbeat au #concrit welcome #submission #cheetah

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writethehousedown · 4 years

Text

In a Heartbeat (Bitney) - opalescentcheetah

A/N: The world needs more Bitney so here’s a little something based off of the short film In a Heartbeat, for the prompt Heart. And a big thank-you to @veronicasanders for beta-ing and always being so supportive!

There she is.

Oh my god, there she is.

Today’s the day. You can do this.

She’s so beautiful.

“Hey! Bianca!”

You’ve got this. Just talk to her. You can do this, Courtney!

“Oh, hey, Courtney.” Bianca smiles warmly at her, dimples appearing in her cheeks, and Courtney quite nearly swoons. “What’s up?”

Her heart hums quietly and makes the decision. She steps closer, twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger. “I was just wondering if–”

“Heeey! Queen B!”

“Bianca,” Adore says, grabbing her arm, “you gotta come with, I need to show you these psycho text messages I got last night. Shit is getting real.”

Bianca offers Courtney an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Courtney. Come find me later, okay?”

Fuck. Courtney can only watch as Bianca turns and trails after Adore. Failure rests heavy in her chest, hard and black and ugly. Her tongue still feels like lead.

She pushes open the door and stops at the sight of Bianca, sprawled over on the floor, scowling. Courtney doesn’t hesitate before running over and offering her a hand.

She isn’t prepared for the shock and vulnerability she sees in Bianca’s eyes. Bianca takes her hand, sighing quietly as Courtney pulls her to her feet.

“Thank you,” she mutters, refusing to meet Courtney’s stare.

Oh. Oh shit.

She runs.

“Courtney?”

Courtney’s eyes snap open to meet an azure stare. She hates seeing the sadness in the face she’s come to love so much.

“Don’t be sorry,” she manages, throat still tight. “I just can’t believe they’re still on about that shit.”

Courtney isn’t prepared for her words to feel so harsh.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly. “I guess I’ve just always thought that everyone had the ability to be kind and give other people a chance. Even privileged white Americans.”

“You bitch, I’m not even American!” Courtney shrieks, shoving her back. “Don’t tell me I’ve already lost my accent!”

Bianca cackles with laughter.

“Either way, your dumb blonde ass looks the part,” she replies, and Courtney is relieved to see the sparkle returning to her eyes.

“It’s not my fault I was blessed with these perfect genes,” she says, dramatically flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“I take back everything I said,” Bianca deadpans. “You’re hopeless.”

Courtney giggles, and when they lapse into a companionable silence, she takes a chance, resting her palm on Bianca’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, and Bianca’s gaze darts to her hand, but she doesn’t shrug it off.

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” she tells Courtney. “There’s not much you can do.”

The defeat in Bianca’s voice hits Courtney with a pang of guilt.

“I should’ve stood up for you back there. I’m sor–”

Bianca turns to her, gaze fierce, and Courtney’s words die in her throat.

“Don’t. Don’t apologise for their ignorance, Courtney. It’s not your fault they’re fucking assholes.”

Courtney’s heart stops.

“I - uh - it was nothing, really.” She’s breathless suddenly, tripping over her words, her mind racing. “It’s not - not important.”

Courtney has to look away from the teasing glint in Bianca’s eyes. “You’re not going to let up until I say something, are you?” she laughs nervously.

Bianca arches an eyebrow, grinning.

“Not just something, girl, say whatever it is that’s turning you into a ripe tomato.”

Oh, shit. Courtney’s hands fly to her face. Her cheeks burn red-hot against her palms, and for a moment she wishes the ground would swallow her whole.

Snap out of it. Now’s your chance… just say it, Courtney! It’s just a few words! Breathe, breathe…

“So is that a yes to lunch?” Courtney whispers, breathless.

“Depends what we’re having,” Bianca grins before dissolving into a fit of laughter.

Courtney feels heat flood her skin. “Bianca!” she shrieks, but she can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of her lips.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Bianca’s joy is painted pink across the apples of her cheeks, pressed into the soft edges of her dimples. “Of course it’s a yes, pussyface.”

#rpdr fanfiction #bitney #bianca del rio #courtney act #opalescentcheetah #in a heartbeat #fluff #lesbian au #high school au #concrit welcome #submission

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convenientalias · 5 years

Note

(Why am I doing this to myself?) 38, Daraoulga

Yay angsty Daraoulga!

I posted this fic on AO3 here but I think it’s short enough to post in its entirety, so let’s go.

Hamid’s been going with the young Vicomte for more than two months when Erik decides he has a problem with it. Why it takes him that long to notice, Hamid doesn’t know. He just knows when Erik’s ire does fall upon him, because it’s not exactly subtle. It’s Erik waylaying him in a hallway and dragging him off into the tunnels for “a talk.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me coming down here anymore.”

Erik doesn’t even bother giving him a look.

“You’re inconsistent.” Hamid folds his arms and leans against a wall. There’s still a fucking noose around his neck—Erik wasn’t exactly gentle about getting him down here—but for some reason he feels like if he acknowledges the rope’s existence he’ll legitimize it, so he’s not removing it. He also isn’t sure what will set Erik off. Heck, he isn’t sure what’s set Erik off enough to attack him tonight to begin with.

“I am giving you a warning,” Erik says after a moment.

“You could have warned me before—”

“Don’t pretend to be offended, daroga. If you weren’t used to the way I work, you would long ago be dead.”

And you’d be dead too, if I didn’t care enough to save your sorry ass, Hamid doesn’t say. “Actually I am…”

“I am warning you to stay away from the Vicomte de Chagny,” Erik says.

Hamid blinks.

“I know you two have been getting close,” Erik continues. “Sharing boxes in the opera, stealing kisses when no one is looking…really it’s childish but I suppose you enjoy yourself as you wish. However, it is no longer wise. You may find yourself another lover.”

“Oh—” Hamid’s temper flares. “—may I?”

Erik now does give him a look, short and contemptuous.

“You can’t be jealous. You’ve never given the vicomte a second look, don’t pretend you have, and we’re… Anyhow it’s a bit late to try and intervene, isn’t it? I’ve been courting the vicomte for…”

“Courting?” Erik snorts. “Oh, come on… And I didn’t think I’d have to intervene, because I thought you would have ended it long ago. We know you aren’t exactly one for monogamy.”

“I am perfectly capable of it.”

“Well, I know that now. But be monogamous with someone else. The Vicomte de Chagny is not a wise choice, and from now on you are to stay far away. Do you understand?”

“I don’t take orders from you, Erik.”

“I am not ordering you to do anything,” Erik says. “I am just warning you. You’re the one who prefers me not to commit murder.” He turns away. “Do as you wish.”

Hamid breaks his date with Raoul that night.

It’s not, he tells himself, that he’s afraid of Erik or what Erik says. But his fight with Erik has left him with a couple scratches, and his coat is a mess. He’s not in a fit state to sit through an opera with Raoul, surrounded by the denizens of high society. Raoul can do without him for a night. He goes home to his apartment where Darius patches up the scratches and he sends the coat off to a tailor for repairs. He sends Raoul a note of apology.

He doesn’t mention the encounter with Erik. It’s not…He doesn’t ever mention Erik to Raoul, Raoul doesn’t even know that they talk to each other. Erik sees his interactions with Hamid as privileged, private, and Hamid has always treated them as such. Even if this one is a bit beyond the pale, it’s still…

It feels wrong to tell Raoul about it, so he doesn’t.

But that doesn’t mean he’s listening to Erik. It doesn’t. He’s not afraid of Erik. He even goes and meets Raoul two days later, at the park. They go for a walk, and they talk, and they kiss behind trees, and it’s all very fun. They chat about opera gossip and the one to bring the opera ghost up is Raoul.

“They say he knocked over a set piece yesterday. The ballerinas were in hysterics. Did you hear about that?”

“I don’t hear about absolutely everything, Raoul.”

“Sorry. You seemed very omniscient when I first met you. Actually it makes me feel a bit smug when I can tell you things,” Raoul says. “But in any case, Christine says it may well have been the opera ghost. She seems a little nervous lately.” He sighs. “She’s so superstitious.”

Raoul has all the carelessness of a boy who’s old enough to know that nothing lurks beneath his bed but not yet old enough to be careful of dark alleys. Usually Hamid finds that certainty endearing, but today he finds it more than a little troubling.

“Hamid? Is something wrong?”

“The opera ghost is more than a superstition,” Hamid says. “You really should be careful in the opera house, Raoul.”

“You too, Hamid? Well, I never…”

Hamid doesn’t mean to let Erik’s warnings, or his threats, rather, sway him. He’s not afraid. Erik has hurt him before, and he can never hurt him too badly, not with their history. But. But Erik sometimes does hurt other people, people who get too close.

“Sometimes” might be an understatement.

Maybe, Hamid thinks, it’s better if he does back off. Just a little. Just for now. Just until he figures out what’s going on with Erik and fixes it, and then he and Raoul can go back to normal, and everything will be fine. But. Maybe, just for a little.

He doesn’t go to the opera that weekend for their usual date. And the next week, when Raoul sends him invitations first to accompany him to a dinner party and then just for a walk along the Seine, he declines, saying he’s ill.

It’s the same excuse as last week, but it’s a classic, and it’s polite. And Raoul isn’t too pushy. He’ll take the hint.

He can’t figure out what is eating Erik just by hearsay, so he goes to the opera house, into the tunnels. He can’t find Erik lurking, though, and he’s too cautious of the lake to swim out to Erik’s house anymore. And when he leaves the tunnels and makes his exit from the opera house, he runs straight into Raoul.

They always used to run into each other by accident here, back before they really knew each other. Serendipity, Hamid would call it. Today, though, it is genuine bad luck.

“Hamid! Then you’re better,” Raoul says. He pulls Hamid into a hug, tighter than usual. He smells of something flowery, maybe lavender—a scent that Hamid has missed, even though it’s only been a week. “I’m so glad—my friend,” he adds quickly. Philippe is walking with them and is already giving them a Look. “We’re here for the night show. You might join us in our box, if you like…”

Usually Hamid and Raoul share Hamid’s box, but usually Raoul doesn’t have a brother in tow, because usually they arrange these things ahead of time, because usually Hamid isn’t actively avoiding Raoul and is, instead, trying to spend time with him. The lavender scent is tempting.

Philippe says, “We’d be pleased,” and Hamid is caught.

Of course he can’t pay any attention to the show itself. Probably the singing is excellent. But he’s thinking about Raoul’s eyes on him, and how his expression alternates: Sometimes intent on the action onstage, sometimes undeniably pleased, sometimes a little bit nervous. And when he meets Hamid’s eyes, he smiles, but a little stiffly, and Hamid is worried.

Philippe isn’t watching, so he puts a hand on Raoul’s leg to calm him down. Raoul stiffens in a whole new way and Hamid can’t help but tease him a little bit, squeezing his thigh and inching his hand up just a little further. Not too much, of course, they aren’t alone. And then it’s intermission.

Hamid wants to take Raoul off to a private corner and show him how much he’s been missed. But they’re at the opera house, Erik’s opera house, and he’s risked enough already. So he tells Philippe and Raoul both, “It’s been lovely, but I really must be going.”

“The show is only an hour longer,” Raoul protests.

“Urgent business,” Hamid says. “I had forgotten. Well, I’m sure I will see you two again.” He leaves without looking back. The person he has to see is Erik, and Erik is avoiding him just as he’s avoiding Raoul, and it’s driving him round the bend.

Raoul sends him a letter, a proper letter. Longer than the notes. “I missed you,” it says. And, “What was the urgent business?” And, “Tell me you’re feeling better. You still seemed off last time, a little tense. Maybe that’s just because Philippe was there—I know it made me tense, him sitting there while you were right next to me. You make me feel all kinds of things Philippe shouldn’t know about, and when you touched my leg like that, you knew exactly what you were doing to me. But even if you’d gone further…”

And, of course, just like in the notes, “When can I see you again?”

Hamid doesn’t bother to send an answer this time. He doesn’t have an answer. Raoul will just have to wait.

But Raoul is not a very patient person. And when two weeks pass with no contact, he shows up on Hamid’s doorstep and demands to be let in.

“No, I don’t want tea,” Raoul says brusquely. “I want to talk.”

Hamid sits. Raoul stands, defiantly, but fuck, he’s not going to stand for this conversation. Just the sight of Raoul’s face makes him feel exhausted. “Yes, dear?”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Two weeks. We met at…”

“We both know you didn’t mean to meet me there, and it wasn’t…look, I just…”

“Calm down, Raoul,” Hamid says. “I’ve been busy. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your letters, but I didn’t know when I’d be free. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what?”

Hamid doesn’t want to lie to him. “Oh, boring things. You wouldn’t want to know all the details.”

Raoul says, “Hamid. Look me in the eyes.”

Hamid does so. “Yes?”

Raoul is trembling. “Just…tell me the truth.”

“What truth?”

Raoul shrugs, a brief spasm. “I don’t know! That you’ve had enough. That I don’t… That I’m not good enough for you anymore, that you aren’t happy. Just… just tell me, all right? I know you’re kind but I promise you it won’t hurt more than this.”

He still smells like lavender. It’s a smell Hamid wishes would linger in his flat, or on his clothing. He sighs.

Raoul storms closer. “Just tell me,” he says, and his face crumples into something ugly and he collapses on his knees, pushing his head onto Hamid’s lap. Hamid strokes his hair because he isn’t sure what else to do.

“I can’t tell you that,” he says. “It wouldn’t be true. You make me…”

And then he’s crying too.

Old fool, he thinks savagely. It was the perfect chance to cut things off with Raoul and keep him safe from Erik, and maybe that would be wise. But he can’t do it. Even if they’ll both be hurt worse later on, he can’t.

“You make me happy,” he sobs. Some part of him is perfectly aware of how ridiculous he sounds, and is detached enough to feel embarrassment. But his lips press against Raoul’s forehead on autopilot, and he pulls himself together enough to lever Raoul up from the floor and kiss his lips instead.

He hasn’t had enough. Not yet. Not yet.

#daraoulga #daroga/raoul #raoul de chagny #the daroga #i wrote a thing #thanks for the ask!

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some-dark-side-writing · 6 years

Text

What Makes Phantom Turn Yandere:

(Tw: self harm)

•He’s expressed interest in you for the longest time. You’d kind of ignored him though compared to other egos. You were polite of course and would involve him in conversations, you had no reason to not be nice, but you always felt that unease when you were in a room with him for too long.

•Many time’s he’d gotten you in a room alone, wanting to tell you everything but you’d always laughed awkwardly before he could get a word out and explained you had somewhere else to be. But one time he wouldn’t give up as easily. His hand whipped out and yanked your elbow to drag you back next to him, nearly toppling you over and he wouldn’t let you shake him off. Leaning in close with darkening eyes he asked. “Why do you hate me? You’ve barely talked to me or even bothered to get to know me above or even at the same level as some of the others. So. Why. Do. You. Hate. Me?”

•You sighed, opening the closet door he’d shut you in a crack so there was some light and it wasn’t a public conversation but you’d feel safe around him. You told him why you felt uncomfortable around him, because he stole souls. He was about to argue he didn’t ‘steal’ them but you cut him off snapping that he knew what you meant and it was something you couldn’t forget it move past.

•Phantom was stuck. Deciding to try explaining for you to understand. “Why should that matter? I love you. I’d protect you and your soul, I wouldn’t even take the soul of someone you cared about.” You cut him off once more, well after getting over the initial fact your stalker who you barely considered a friend and you’d never even hung out with alone had just told you he loved you.

•Against your better judgement you decided to properly look him over. He was a pretty boy. Plus you didn’t know him that in depth. Finally you’d told him you’d only maybe consider it if he returned of all his souls and never took any more ever again. Again he was stuck. And you could see that by the way his mouth was opening and closing with no sound coming out like a fish out of water and it kinda pissed you off. You sighed in frustration, asking “Why can’t you sustain on the fan’s power or whatever fuels the others and make proper business deals?!” Which is when the real kicker came in.

•”I can!” He argued. You groaned, getting fed up but he waved his hands in front of you, stepping in front of the door and closing it. “But because I’m... a smaller ego-“ you could tell it deflated his own ego to tell you that “I’m not as powerful nor able to protect you, so I need that extra power to help me along. You have to understand that Y/N...” You let slide the fact he felt he needed to protect you, what from you had no idea, as something else came forward from his argument, this whole thing turning more and more into a debating match. “Great, power hungry, another turn off.”

•Phantom quickly became enraged you thought so little of him, that after all this time you’d want him to change and lose everything and even then only MAYBE consider??!? Others would crumble and kiss his feet if he offered them an ounce of his time and here you were degrading him, mocking him. His nostrils flared and his hand gripped your shoulder and even though you’d tried to stand him down before you couldn’t hold back your pain any more. “Let. Go... Phantom let go... please! It hurts.”

•Phantom did let you go with a sigh but that’s not all he did. The next morning you turned on the tv in your room and the media was filled with coverage of lost people being reunited with their families from last night, leading police to believe it was the same kidnapper, no one would come forward and say where they had been but there were nation wide celebrations, tearful family members, ill looking parents being reunited with their tear filled children, it almost brought tears to your eyes.

•The cane dropped on your bed and you jumped, turning off the television as Phantom appeared in your room, looking even more pale and sickly than the people he’d just let free, falling to his knees at the foot of your bed and you rushed forward, grabbing his shoulders to stop him from swaying, he grabbed back onto your arms, cane discarded under your covers, as he smiled dizzily at you as he told you “Even if you’re the only person who ever knows I exist I’ll be happy with that.” You couldn’t help but in your excitement press a quick kiss to his cheek and even though that was the happiest you’d seen him up until that point it was the beginning of your nightmare.

•He was sick for about a week after that and after an initial inspection from the doctor egos he only wanted you taking care of him. And in that moment you were more than happy to oblige, he’d basically risked his own existence to make you and others happy. So you’d pat his head with a towel, make him get well foods, and on the night he was healing you fell asleep in his bed. He’d never been happier even though you hadn’t meant to fall asleep but he always thought that was the reason he was back to normal the next day.

•Unfortunately things went downhill from there. And even though you’d both had a pretty okay few months together there were a few things that stopped it from being everything Phantom had hoped for.

•First of all the two of you never had sex. He was honestly fine with that and would never force you into anything of the sort but it hurt him to wonder why you didn’t want to, he was sure it wasn’t the sex you didn’t like the appeal of but the fact it would be with him.

•In reality you still had those guilty and shamed feelings being with Phantom and you could never shake the unending unease with him. Sometimes you thought that you were only in this relationship to begin with because you thought it was bad if you didn’t at least give him a chance for what he’d sacrificed, which turned into going out with him because what if that means he’ll take all the souls back, would that make you a bad person? Was he keeping anyone he obtained from any type of afterlife? He was created to be an evil creature to not kill but be possibly worse by stealing souls. He knew you had a few of those doubts, he just denied their extent as he stalked you and knew you had hour long talks with friends and egos (who he did not like you being friends with) But it was only because of them rationalising things like ‘He was born collecting souls already and you’re making him a better person‘ that he thought kept the two of you together sometimes.

•There were also things you disliked that he did in the relationship of course. He had booked your favourite bands for you, using managerial skills only, and if you didn’t take your eyes off the band the whole performance you lost phone privileges for a week. Your attention should only ever exist majority wise around YOUR senpai he’d explained to you. Oh he also monitored everything you did. If he felt like you were particularly lovey dovey to him that day he may not ask to look at messages but he’d want to know who you were messaging and look at phone bills to see if you called someone too many times, he had spyware on your phone that you didn’t even know about to see if you ever lied to him also.

•But one day you realised you weren’t truly happy and things could be much much better. It wasn’t really his fault. He’d done a lot of nice things, bought you so many gifts, always complimented you, respected any pda boundaries you had but still his favourite thing he’d told you over and over was to hug and kiss you. But you couldn’t stay together for pity or fear. Which is exactly what you told him, and he was not happy.

•You were terrified. His cane had broken nearly all the priceless artefacts he’d gotten you, you were inhaling smoke from the fires you were sure were happening all over your home and he wasn’t letting you leave. “I’ve worked too hard for you. You’re mine. Why don’t you ever understand that kitten?” You cried as the end of his cane which had had a retractable dagger in the entire time dragged down your cheek, in a ‘loving, comforting’ gesture. “Now I’ll make sure you’ll never make that mistake again.”

•Your soul was trapped in his orb.

•After a while he started to get addicted to that extra power again. He re-claimed all his ex victims and started gaining new ones, however they were all in a different orb, you had one of your very own, the one he only placed on the cane when he was alone, and why? Because, as he told you when he lay in bed with it at night “I love you. So so much.”

•Eventually though Phantom began to miss things he couldn’t have with just your miniature. The small details of your body, your laugh, your smile, the way you smelled, your touch... On top of that the egos were definitely getting suspicious, the idiot Chase even had to pull the crazy idiot Anti off of him when he almost pulled that knife right across his throat, burning a hole in his new suit with his glitching, demanding to know where you were! As if he had the right to know! But Phantom would keep you from him, from everyone. So he let you go.

•But something went wrong. You were paranoid! He’d had to jump to cover your mouth with his hand when you came back because you just started screaming, and then thrashing out, and then crying.

•”Y/N shh ssh sssshhhh my sweet It’s okay! Phantom’s here. I’ve got you. You’re in the arms of someone who loves you. There’s no need to fret now. You can have freedom whenever you want when you’re good. I know it’s scary out here, but I’ll protect you.” He started to get worried when you didn’t stop screaming, holding you tighter. “Stop it kitten you’re going to hurt yourself. I’m going to protect you, more than before, I know I let your feelings get in the way of that but I’ll be here for your every move don’t you worry.”

•You had the itching thought that some part of you was still in that orb even though Phantom showed you many times the damned thing didn’t glow anymore, he felt like now wasn’t the best time to bring up his other collections. You still felt he had a hold on you, and physically yes he was rarely ever not touching some part of you, mostly your hand, but you could never trust him anymore.

•Could you even trust yourself? The house wasn’t burnt down, the media was talking about still searching for the missing people, you couldn’t possibly jump to they were retrieved and missing again in this state.

•You’d lost it when you found his other orb that glowed. For you that meant he still could have some part of you. In your distress you took the knife from the base of that cane and slit your arms from your wrist to your elbow, needing to see if your soul was still in there, in your anguish crying loudly when you couldn’t ‘see’ it. Of course Phantom, who was downstairs with the egos who all came together to demand a visit from you, heard this cry as well as the others and he was the first to run upstairs.

•”Y/N?! OH MY GOD Y/N! Shit! Fuck fuck fuck what have you done to yourself?!” Phantom was panicking, he loved you, ripping his waistcoat off to cover both your wrists that were bleeding heavily as Dark was the next upstairs, dragging Dr. Iplier and Schneep past the others and ordering them to fix this immediately.

•You were fixed up and knocked out on pain meds as the egos, who cared about you, were all giving the now fully yandere side murderous looks. He promised the egos he’d returned all of you shoving his dim simple orb in front of them and breaking down in tears. He didn’t understand where he’d gone wrong. But he knew paranoia was not simple to fix.

•Dark offered an alternative. Someone, maybe Host had to take your memories. Phantom got up from where he was curled up in a ball on the floor and it was a discussion which the egos were in favour of because you were too far gone to risk leaving you with the memories of the torture Phantom had put you through, not that anyone dared speak the last part out loud since he could very well already have snapped.

•However they certainly did not approve of Phantom’s plan to completely change your morals on soul taking. In fact Anti laughed at it and Natemare, who he was most jealous of head and head with Dark because of the similarities with himself, told Phantom that you weren’t ever going to know he existed...

(Notes: I left the ending up to y’all ;-) )

#fic #phantom x reader #phantom fic #angst fic #yandere phantom #yandere tw?#yandere au #yandere fic #yandere x reader #bullet fic

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