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#writing excerpts
impyssadobsessions · 4 months
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DPXDC Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse "Excerpts" (Part 1?) I have more Ideas
Okay I kepy thinking about the prompt Enemy of my Enemy is the Worse I made LOL- (gonna post excerpts.) Probably wont fully write this.. as much as I like to right now LOL. If this inspires anyone to write, go for it.
"So now what? Going to vivisect me? Experiment? Rip my molecules apart like how my-Mr. Fenton keeps telling me." "Unfortunately, no." Agent K grumbles. "And its dissection, not-" Agent O tries to correct. "I maybe dead-but I'm not THAT dead." Danny rolled his eyes, flashing them at the two men in white. He can't believe any of this is happening. Oh he wished he listened to Jazz.. or Sam or Tuck more. He pulled at his ghost proof bindings, them having him ridiculously buried in the restraints. "Actually, Mr. Phantom, is it? I wanted to talk." Another bald man walks in, his suit notably black. Danny raised his eyebrow unimpressed, "What? Is it the Guys in Black and White now? Not that I'm against it, I'm all for equality, but it does seem a little off brand. I'm guessing the bleach bill is getting too high." Agent O was about to speak out- when the guy in black raised his hand to silence him. This guy only looked slightly amused, which gave Danny the creeps. "Of course not. That'd be ridiculous, though I'm not against inclusivity either. I'm Lex Luthor, and it is my recent interest in ghosts that had allowed the GIW to reach its full potential. " "So another annoying billionaire. Great."
"So you know of me? Perfect, then we can keep this simple. In truth, I am only interested in one ghost in particular." "We can capture him without involving ourselves with this scum-" "This GHOST has not only evaded my notice for YEARS, but has been stealing very valuable technology that would go beyond NASA's comprehension. Though I don't doubt your expertise, it has not come without notice that this particular ghost is seen the most-" Lex flicked his eyes down at Phantom. "With you." Agent K and O unrolled paper from their suits to reveal a picture of Plasmius. "The Wisconsin Ghost." - "Plasmius?!" Danny spoke same time the Agents did. Lex smirked at the Agents then down at Phantom. Danny took a moment to register what was going on before busting out laughing. "Really? What makes you think I'm buddy buddy with Plasmius? He's a total fruitloop and honestly- not surprise. He steals blueprints from my p---Dr. Fentons all the time." "You steal their items as well, if we recall." Agent K raised a brow. "Well-I- Just because- YOU USE THEIR BLUEPRINTS TOO!" "Enough. " Lex starting to sound annoyed, Danny felt like it was a win. Serves bastard right. Man did he hate billionaires. "I've observed your work in Amity Park. If I dare say you are quite similar to many of the masked vigilantes that plague this Earth. Even more heroic in my opinion." Danny was not biting at whatever trick Lex was pulling. Though he didn't miss the skip of his core at being recognized something other than a menace. 'He's lying to you.' he repeated in his head. Pulling on his bindings again to remember the real situation before him.
"That being said, I like you to do as heroes do and capture this criminal, then bring him to me." "Look, thanks for the compliment- but we both know I'm not seen as a hero. So why don't you quit the buttering 'cause I'm not interested in culinary and tell me what's in it for me. Even though I'm barely c-average on the best of days, I'm not dumb. I'm not doing this for free or just some lame you will be spared nonsense. Been there done that." Lex smirked again, "I'll grant you immunity from GIW and you can have your haunt back." "Wait? What?!" "But it took so long to capture him-" "IF you manage to capture Plasmius and bring him to me before GIW can." Danny glanced at the two agents as they puffed out their chests. Cocky. They really think they could capture Vlad? Then painfully reminded himself that they did catch him. "And if I don't agree?" "We DISSECT you and use you for very unethical and highly painful experiments that are legal on subjects like yourself." Agent K happily boast. "Riiiight." Danny clicked his tongue, "Add in that these guys are not allowed to be in a 50 miles radius from Amity and I'll do it." "No-" "Deal."
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Danny looped on back to the entryway as he finished swooping through every room of the manor. "Alright! Come on out Fruitloop! I know you're still here-" Just as Phantom floated down to land, he felt a hard punch in his face that sent him skidding across the room into the wall. "OOF" "Guess I should have seen that com...ming..." Danny rubbed his jaw, turning back to see who punched him. His eyes widening as he recognized the heroes he was facing. "Phantom. We're taking you into custody." "YOU CALLED THE JUSTICE LEAGUE ON ME?!" -----(Fight happens)--- Flash manages to hold Phantom, using his speeding molecules to keep Phantom from phasing through his grip. Danny gritting his teeth as the other heroes ready to capture him. Fine. If he can't phase through, he'll just phase in. Phantom uses his icy breath to freeze everything around them. Superman quickly uses his laser vision to melt the ice covering the room in mist, trying to keep themselves from being frozen. "Flash!" When the mist cleared the was no sign of him. Superman using his hearing to try and locate him- despite guarding his right side, he was kicked into the wall by Flash. Flash's eyes glowing bright green. "Well this is weird." -Proceeds to fight in Flash's body for a moment, until he gets knocked out of it. Danny's on his last legs, thinking he barely done a number on them (Not realizing he had been giving them quite a fight). Danny tries to reason again only to hear Amity Park doing great since GIW involvement. Still he isn't backing down. Even mentions Lex is backing them. He knows its only temporary peace if its really peace at all. Which he suspects is a big farce. Besides the portal still resides in Amity. GIW can't get a hold of that- portal. If he can't make them hear him out, then he'll show them why Vlad isn't just some victim. (Not realizing what Justice League may have already discovered) "Want to know why the number 2 worse billionaire is after Fruitloop?" standing up as the net placed on him burned and electrified him. It hurt so much, but he wasn't ready to quit now. Superman flew out in front of the others to block Phantom as Phantom tackled him. Phantom just uses rest of his strength to crash Superman through layers of floors til they reached the secret lab. Superman flinging Phantom into the other side of the room just as they landed, making him slam into a green tube, shattering it. The netting having dropped to the ground away from him. He coughed, shaking as a white ring dangerously popped around his waist shakily dancing, until Phantom sucked it back in. Not yet. The green ectoplasm from the tube soaking into his skin. His eyes widening as he saw what the green ectoplasm was from, jumping back with a disgust yell. He watched the clone fizzle out. "ALREADY? Really Vlad?" He shook off the creeps. "What is this?" "A Lab, du-UAHHHHHHH-" He found himself being spun around by Flash, and flung into the air where he was lassoed. Wonder Woman yanked on the rope tight, swinging him down into the opposite wall. He really was tired of being walled by them. Batman was quick to cuff him as Superman froze him in place. Danny raised a tired brow, unamused. "Are we chill now?" "No." "Thought so." ---bit more talking. Danny navigating his way through the truth of the lasso before using his wail as his last ditch effort to escape. Manages to escape through the portal as the lab collapses.
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Last Line Tag
tagged by: @zmwrites thanks!
tagging: Open Tag as well as soft tagging @avrablake | @sarahlizziewrites | @odysseywritings | @ink-fireplace-coffee | @violets-in-her-arms-writes | @words-after-midnight | @lawful-evil-novelist | @winterandwords | @kaylinalexanderbooks
Asher and Damian because I worked on them last night! The boys are not having a good time :DDD
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“Are you sure he’s here?” Asher asked, blood rushing in his ears and an icy hand closing around his heart.
“I’ve been tracking the movements in and out of this building for a while now,” Chase said, “And I also hacked the cameras for some… footage… that I don’t think you want to see.”
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gracehosborn · 10 days
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Find The Word Tag
Thank you to @athenswrites for the tag! Even if its a month or so late!
Rules: find excerpts from your work(s)-in-progress with the given words, then tag some friends to play along.
My words: Seed, Glass, Contain(er), and Hands. Your words: Run(ing), blood, clear, and realization.
Softly tagging, with no pressure: @kaylinalexanderbooks @meerawrites @queerfox-tales @thestarsfightagainstusmyfriend @sunset-a-story
Excerpts are under the cut! They feature:
Hamilton being angsty over some seeds in TAI.
Two excerpts from IOD! Alex gets her hair cut with a sword, and punches a guy in the nose.
From TAI, Hamilton receiving some exciting news during a morning drill with his militia.
Seed
From The American Icarus: Volume I:
I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders, “Uncle, I am no gardener.” “A little dirt will not hurt you.” Taking hold of my hand, my uncle pulled me to sit next to him, pressing with his other hand a single seed into my free one. For being a merchant, he does know how to garden well. Looking down at the lone seed then in my hand, I noted its small size; how it was destined to by those most logical rules of nature grow into a large, towering, and beautiful tree. Yet if only planted into the dirt before me, upon that island. There would be nowhere else for the little seed to grow and find its place—that island was its place, and that such fact would be known in my implanting it into the dirt just below it. You are only confused because you have more than one path unlike this seed. Why are you analogizing a seed? Just… figure something out—but what? Why? What purpose would my choices have? Legacy, what does that really matter? Mama is… dead… nothing is to change that—but trying would at least—ugh! I let the seed fall at a speed possibly too fast into the dirt as a murmur escaped me, “I hate being indecisive.” Not hearing my murmur, but seeing my treatment of his seed, my uncle turned towards me, attending me with a expression of surprise. “What did the poor seedling do to you, dear child?” Reopen doors which I have not an idea of what to do with and of which cause me great confusion simply due to my being in a position which gives little opportunity to walk through them. “Nothing… sorry.” “’Tis alright, she’s just a seed—a beautiful tree will come no matter how hard you threw it into its dirt.” “Indeed, but it had to be this dirt?” Without much thought, I gestured towards the said dirt with the hand which had released the seed; it then unseen underneath the brown specks. Uncle James’ blue eyes shewed much confusion, “What is the matter with the dirt? You just said to me you’re no gardener, yet why is it you’re complaining about dirt? You get your hands dirty working for Mr. Cruger, do you not?” Glancing away from my uncle, I sighed, the entertainment of those most interesting of passerby not as such in that moment. I was grateful for my job, and the life thereat I had lived, but particulars of the whole left me in a state of boundless confusion. My mother had only come to that island on account of my father’s business then as a sailor whom had in reasons I alongside many are still left to speculate, this having left my mother to raise her two children alone with aid of her family at which point she had died, leaving those said children otherwise orphaned and a family history tainted in scandal, fear and cover from the law, and known to all—even those whose knowledge of it was a national curse. All these particulars considered on the whole left me to question my very reasonings to having thought of them. I was at a fork in the road—continue to trek onward and stay where I was in security albeit really very little, or be one Orpheus and turn; changing everything with a most simple action in theory.
Glass
From Ink of Destruction:
Then my composure shattered like falling glass. My bones flared with anger as my eyes grew dark, becoming ablaze with wrath that seemed to burst out like a clown jumping out of a sewer. I could feel my feet guiding my body forward and my arm moving back as though it were a slingshot. Without a word, I punched Aiden Edwards square in the nose. Hearing a loud crack as I pulled away, I couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of pride in my anger. Backing away with a cry of agony, Aiden reached for his nose, clutching his face in his hands as he felt for the blood that was now trickling down his cheeks. “What the hell was that for? You fucking broke my nose!?” he cried as he attempted to tend to the injury. "Oh, you should know what it was for, Aiden,” I said, feeling the sternness in my voice return. Before he could respond, I turned towards Jess, who immediately took a step back, feeling the full force of the wrath in my gaze. A part of my mind felt as though the action were justified, for Jess had betrayed me, or rather, she had been against me this whole time. A spy.
Contain
From The American Icarus: Volume I:
“You may all be relieved of your duties for today,” began he. “Good work today—thank you for not causing a racket. Pick up your target boards—bring them to Lieutenant Jay here.” As many a “Yes, sir!” filled the air, I returned to my right, walking towards the wooden board I had been left to use moments before. At last closing the distance of some yards, my hand wrapped around the top of the thick oak, it pressing firmly against my skin. Able to clearly see the damage done upon it by me, I noted the large clean-cut gashes, placed fairly close together, the three each having carved a hole. Upon the grass behind, in shadow of the secondary wooden piece propping the main board up, wood shavings covered the space; the balls of lead somewhere in the grass far beyond. Keeping the board steady within my grasp, as to not harm myself by way of the loose pieces, I turned in the direction of the chapel. A soreness began to rise upon my upper back as the board and my musket knocked on occasion my sides in my hurried walking, pushing me to grunt in frustration. If not for the barrel of the musket still hot and in need of cleaning, I would have slung her upon my back in quickening my pace. The wood of her barrel grazed my shoulder with the brush of a close fire, intense such that as I at last met Lieutenant Jay’s gaze I flinched. “Careful—here, I’ll take it.” Before I could register the action, Fredrick took hold of my board, pulling it out of my grasp. With a clatter, he dropped it into the growing pile just to his left near the chapel wall before turning back towards me. “Thank you—“ “Impressive work there, with that demonstration. Sorry they needed it, but you have proven yourself very equipped. That reminds me….” Turning his attention to the pocket of his coat, Fredrick retrieved with a swift movement the envelope I had seen in his care some time prior. “This arrived by Colonel McDougall from my brother whilst you were with your group. I know not what the pages inside contain.” He replied to my—well of course he would have considering that is what I wanted to make him do. I actually managed to get an intended reply…. Taking the envelope outstretched towards me, my fingers gripped the folded parchment with firmness, driven not to tear the wax seal only by the publicity of the circumstances surrounding me. My chest rose with a slowness as in gathering myself I took a long breath. Carefully, I slipped the envelope into the left pocket of my coat, glancing up at my superior officer once more at the quiet thud of the parchment against the wool fabric. “Thank you, sir.” Giving a smile polite, I began to take my leave, but not before Fredrick attempted to grab my shoulder. A short gasp escaping me, I turned my head so as to face him once more. “Sir?” “You did not hear this from me,” he began, his voice lowering close to a whisper, “but I did hear that McDougall and Jay have been talking of you—there has been rumor spreading that the Provincial Congress might raise a new company to be led by an appointment.” Shock gripped to my expression and countenance, pushing my eyes to widen and mouth to open slightly. “Are you suggesting—“ “Yes.” “What?” In keeping pace with Fredrick’s quiet, my voice was pushed out forcibly, unable to be withheld by the shock consuming me. A smirk took up my friend’s expression as he lifted a finger to his lips in silent request. Releasing his hand from my shoulder, he gave a quick nod before turning towards the man newly arrived with another of the wooden boards used during the drill. Sensing another man suddenly behind myself, I stepped to my far left and away from Lieutenant Jay in an attempt to be out of the way as my heart began to race.
Hands
From Ink of Destruction:
“Now that the rope is cut, you should be able to get your hands out quite easily. But yes, I will make that attempt.” At his words, the loosened pressure around my wrists became more noticable. Lifting my fingers inward, I managed to find a hole in the center of the knot. Inhaling, I pulled my right hand away and up, carefully squeezing my fingers between the ropes and the cement pole. A sigh of relief escaped me as my free hand tugged at the rope, and the sound of the knot meeting the wooden floor filled my ears. Lowering my hands to my sides, I gently rubbed my wrists against the inner lining of my jacket’s sleeves, feelling a soreness race down my arms. Blinking, I stared towards Mr. Waiter, feeling words come out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Are you certain that you haven’t done any formal historical research? Or did you lie to me? It’s clear you are not an amateur with that sword.” My voice held an even tone, for I was more curious than angry. A look of realization filled Mr. Waiter’s face, and I could see sprinkles of what appeared to be mischeif in his eyes. “You would know if I were lying to you. I am notoriously a bad lair. And if I were to mess with you, that would be even more obvious. As historians, or those who claim themselves historians, could tell you. I am not a historian myself. Rather, a subject of interest for many in the profession.” Shock and disbelief filled my veins as I took in his words. If historians had written about him, then surely I should have recognized him. His omission of what had caused him to drop out of college must have been something that would have drawn too much attention to him for him to have wanted to mention it inside the resturant. Further, the fact that he had not said his name indicated to me that I may not believe him. As I opened my mouth, the man rose his hand up to stop me. “Turn around so that I might try to fix your hair. Then you can continue.” Nodding, I turned to face the white pole as questions swirled with a fury in my mind. Coming to stand behind me, Mr Waiter gently grabbed towards the center of my hair, slowly lifting the now-uneven strands above my head. Gravity forced the last few inches of the longer portions to fall in front of my eyes, and I was certain against Mr. Waiter’s fist. Hearing the clang of the sword against the wood, I took a deep breath, steadying my posture. “This may be shorter than you wish,” Mr. Waiter said, “but if I held it otherwise, there would be a greater risk of ripping your roots out. And I am sure you don’t want to wear a wig.” Without another word, the man raised his hand, and the sharp swoosh of his blade filled the room. Clumps of hair flew to the floor with soft taps as the metal was struck for a second, and third time. The sounds brought me back to my freshman world history class, where we had watched a number of films exploring different cultures. As a treat towards the end of the unit, Disney’s Mulan had been shown. It was clear to me now how the strengths of animation had made the character’s famed haircut with her own sword seem so easy. Lenna would have surely reasoned that Mulan simply had thin hair, with the benefit of straight strands. At the thought, worry caught in my throat at how much time had passed. She had most likely gotten a cab, I told myself, but knowing Lenna, she would not have strayed far. “There.” With a sigh of relief, Mr. Waiter at last lowered the centuries’ old weapon after a final swing, stepping back towards his former post. As my hair fell back down, I could hear him mutter under his breath: “I never imagined I would use my training in such a manner.”
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oh-no-another-idea · 3 months
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Sip of Snips: longing
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Velia made it through five more second class cars with the red seats before the train left the station. She felt it tense beneath her boots—all that shifting muscle, straining. And then it moved, one small huff followed by another. Grabbing ahold of the nearest wall, Velia found a window and looked out. Already the fog of New York was moving, falling back. The noise picked up, as did their speed, and the station platform ended. Buildings swished past, their lights a blur through the murky glass. The clacking unnerved her. Velia was no stranger to noise, to the constant clamor of the city, but where those familiar sounds soothed her or simply faded to the background, the train’s tread felt desperate. As though it already was thinking longingly of the destination and the journey’s end. Or perhaps she was merely assigning her own quiet thoughts to the machine.
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From The Invisible Girl 🚂
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camillenrose · 9 months
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[ x, x, x]
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godofgrapes · 2 months
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Buildings in Sunspear, as a rule, are designed in such a way as to reach up towards the Sun and let in as much natural light as possible. It’s only here in the Haft and further up the mountain still, in Spearpoint, that the luxury of the dark can be afforded by the rich. In the course of his life, Sol has only ever borrowed darkness, or stolen it from the advantageous shade of a listing tree. The kind of darkness that inhabits a place like this, recessed into the mountain where even the Holy Sun can’t hope to reach, is foreign to the would-be thief.
--- excerpt from Hewn in Bone
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written-in-gold · 11 months
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New WIP: Ways to Be Cunning (when you're getting too old for it)
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Genre: elements of fantasy and contemporary
Themes of: fame, magic, father/son relationships as well as other family dynamics, getting over somebody you loved
POV: Third person's switching
Current draft: about 15000 words I think
Expected word count: 80000
Cowritten with @addisons-damn-dialogue
Synopsis
It's been forty years since Ari and Hector fell breathlessly in love, and then fell apart in a breakup that was splashed all over the papers.
Ari is still in love with Jude, and still host to the magic that is keeping him alive. Hector is divorced, and thinks only of his three children. When he discovers that his thirteen-year-old, Luke, has inherited his powers, and will one day have to work alongside Ari, he takes him down to London to bond with him, so that when the time comes, Luke can take Hector’s place and connect Ari to the stone.
But Hector isn’t so sure about this plan. Hector thinks Ari, as he's now older, should be allowed to die just like everybody else. But when the papers discover Hector’s thoughts from a leaked recording, they come down on him, hard—and the government decides they want Luke under the custody, so that they can control him, Ari, and by extension, the magic at large. Using Hector’s increasingly bad reputation, and his ex-wife's mental health, a conspiracy begins to get both of them out of the picture for good.
Characters
Hector Ravenscroft
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Hector has lived his life blissfully out of the limelight down in Cornwall, and hasn't seen Ari in years. His life has been peaceful, ordinary. Having divorced from his wife Roxie, he sees his children every weekend.
There was a time Hector was popular with the press. But after his rough breakup with Ari, and Ari’s honesty in the papers regarding the violence of toxicity of their relationship, Hector has remained somewhat of a villain in the eyes of the public.
Hector doesn’t see why Ari should get immortality when nobody else does. He doesn’t see why his son should have to put up with Ari for the rest of his life. His biggest mistake is confessing this at the wrong moment, to the wrong people. Hector is suddenly trapped in a media blitz like no other—and is threatened with losing his children.
Luke Ravenscroft
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Luke thinks inheriting his father's psychic powers is a good thing. After all, it means he gets to miss school, and go down to London with his father to live with two famous people for a few weeks.
However, Luke quickly realises that it's more than just a fun trip, but instead very culturally important. The main land has always longed to control the magic from the islands, and finally they think they have a shot—now they might be getting level-headed Hector out of the way.
Luke is lost in confusion as the people around him tell him his father's a bad person, and that his mother's crazy. He has Ari, of course, and he likes Ari—but even that comes with questions. Didn’t his father always tell him that Ari was selfish and destructive?
Suddenly the world around Luke doesn't seem so safe anymore, and everybody’s telling him who he can trust. He knows that, when the time comes, he'll be able to take responsibility of connecting Ari to the stone—but who will be by his side?
Ari Rust
Roxie Ravenscroft—Hector’s ex-wife, Roxie, did not want to be involved. She wanted her one role to be checking up on Luke, and being a mother to the others. But once Hector is on the news, Roxie has to deal with the whole world judging her family, and then judging her, too, as the press use her mental health problems and stint in rehab against her.
Ari loves being famous, and he loves the idea of being immortal. What he doesn’t love so much is the concept of having to live with his toxic ex long enough to bond with his son.
Ari seems to have it all. He's rich, he's famous, he's beloved, he's in love with a man he's spending his life with, and he's going to be immortal. But Ari struggles with mental health issues, and rarely seems to get a moment alone.
Ari is staying on task, and trying to bond with Luke, when suddenly all hell breaks loose as Hector is recorded saying something he shouldn’t. Ari is entrusted to do the one thing he does best—deal with the press. But even Ari can't seem to stop the onslaught of attacks on Hector’s character, and is in danger of being under the thumb of the government again, forty years after breaking free.
Other Characters
Nora Ravenscroft—The favourite child, Nora has always been closest to her dad, and she's always wanted to a famous singer. She's jealous when she hears that her little brother is going down to London with Hector, to live with Ari Rust and Jude Roffee. She tries not to be bitter, but once their family gets a bad reputation, it becomes difficult.
Oliver Ravenscroft—Oli doesn't really get what's so special about Luke, and what isn't so special about him. Why hasn't he got any magic, like his brother and his father? Oli's already complicated feelings about his family, and about the divorce, worsen, especially after the papers start to plant doubts in his mind about whether Hector is a good person.
Jude Roffee—One of the most successful actors of his generation, two-time Oscar winner Jude Roffee fell in love with Ari Rust when Ari was still dating Hector. Still guilty about supposedly stealing Ari away, Jude tries to keep his distance from Hector, but can't escape the fact that all the details of the early days of his and Ari’s romance are suddenly public interest again.
(More characters may be added later!)
Excerpt
Luke’s been to London before. When his dad was Ambassador he used to take flights up there all the time, but Luke was young on the very few occasions Hector had time to bring them and can’t remember loads. It was back when his parents were still married and sort of loved each other.
He doesn’t understand at first what he’s needed in London for, until his dad explains that it’s just a bit of political shit in case anything suddenly happens to him. In case he dies, was what Luke understood as Hector’s meaning, but Hector didn’t seem to want to say that, as it implies he’s dying which he is not. Luke thinks he would sense it.
Anyway, they also need Luke to meet Ari. There needs to be somewhat of a “connection” between the two people in order for them to uphold the connection between Ari and the stone. It was easy for Hector since they used to be in love and everything, but Luke has never even met him. Apparently that needs to change. Hector is adamantly against it.
“When I die,” Hector is saying on the phone with Luke, Nora and Oli sat right there eavesdropping. Hector’s on his second cigarette but Luke can still feel how angry he is. “When I die, Ari can just die along with me. I don’t want my son attached to Ari, you understand?... it’s not fucking murder. He’ll just drop dead. He’s had fifty years of his life, he’s damn fine... fuck you. No, I don’t want Luke meeting him and certainly not connecting with him on any level. Ask Ari, he’ll say the same as me. Fuck off.” Hector hangs up then, and looks at the kids. “There’s more to do than I thought.”
“Yeah, sounds important,” Oli says dryly. “Pretty sure I caught the word murder in there.”
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Ask to be added to the taglist! 💖
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gabelish · 11 months
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Anyway I’m obsessed with this wip.
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Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.
Tagged by @hexiewrites 💜
Mike pulls Will tightly against his chest, their bodies pressing together like a pair of parentheses. He feels the curve of Will's shoulder blades, the swell of his hips, and the warmth of the sun radiating from his skin.
Tagging (with no pressure!!):
@willel @edmunsn @mikeandwillel @boom-addicted-gremlin @stcanonqueers @grimmfitzz @byler-alarmist @dont-open-dead-inside-25 @lunaraindrop @chill-byers @none-gender-left-man @strawberryspence @bylertruther @hunter-sylvester @riality-check @andiwriteordie @robinsnance @elmaxendgame @spoopybyler @byler-alarmist @legitcookie @wheelerstrange @wontbyers @mikewheeleriknowwhatyouare @knightofthieves @theonebyler @sad-little-clown @overflowing-with-hyperfixations @hopelessbyers @will80sbyers @ohfallingdisco @watchmenanon @cgi-heart-eyes @thatbylerstan @strawberryspence @fruity-cryptid @willthewise7 @ratthew-raccoon @dragonleighs @itsfreakingbats
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alistonjdrake · 1 year
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Miko/Mircea embracing his Ulra heritage in The House of Ruin
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crypticcodexcreations · 10 months
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First Meeting
So, I wrote something with the demon and the priest.
TW: vague, minor mentions of suicide in a way, horny demon who is not subtle about it
Thunder rolled as Oliver approached the small house. He noticed that the windows were dark and he didn’t see much sign that anyone was home. Steven’s parents had been sure that he would be here though, so he stepped up to the door, closing his umbrella and giving it a small shake to get the rain off before turning back to the door. Just as he was about to knock, it opened and he found himself face to face with who he assumed to be Steven.
“What?” As Steven spoke, Oliver noticed how disheveled he looked, hair unkempt and in sore need of a cut, hoodie rumpled.
“Hello Steven. I’m Father Oliver. Your parents were worried about you and asked me to come speak with you.” Steven sighed, then shrugged before turning back into the house.
“Alright. Not like I have anything better to do today.” Oliver stepped into the house, finding a spot to leave his umbrella and wiping his feet on the mat. Steven motioned to a couch nearby.
“Go ahead and sit I guess. I’m gonna get a beer, want one?” Oliver hesitated mid-step as the words left Steven’s mouth. Before he could answer, Steven chuckled. “Right. Priest. Too good to have fun.” Oliver sighed, deciding not to bother to respond to that as he finished his trip to the couch and sat down, the worn springs creaking slightly beneath his weight. He tried to gather his thoughts while Steven was in the kitchen.
From the way Steven’s parents had spoken about him, Oliver had expected someone around eighteen, just out on the own for the first time, not someone around his own age. He listened as the fridge shut, thunder rolling outside. When Steven came into the room he opened his mouth to speak only for the words to die on his tongue as lightning flashed and he saw the truth.
For that brief moment, he saw Steven’s eyes truly, a mismatched red and yellow, slit pupils studying him. He also saw the small red horns protruding from his black hair. He felt sick as he realized that this was not Steven. He was face to face with a demon.
The demon plopped down in a chair across from him, taking a long sip from the beer before raising an eyebrow.
“You gonna talk or what?” Oliver swallowed, deciding the best way to handle this was being direct.
“Where is Steven?” He flinched slightly as the demon laughed.
“You feeling ok, Father? I’m sitting right in front of you.” Oliver shook his head. He refused to drop this.
“I saw your eyes. You’re not Steven.” At that, the demon scowled, giving up a bit more quickly than Oliver had expected.
“Ugh, fine. I’m just using his body, ok? Back off.” Oliver tried to keep his breath steady.
“Give that young man his body back.” He hoped that he sounded strong, but he felt very small all of a sudden. The demon laughed at him.
“He doesn’t want it! Our deal was that he’d let me use it so long as he never has to come back! Now what next, Oliver?” As his name left the demon’s lips, he instinctively recoiled, frowning.
“Father Moriarty.” The demon snorted at his assertion, setting the beer on the small, worn coffee table between them.
“You said Oliver earlier.” Oliver glared, wishing that looks could kill in that moment.
“If you are going to address me, it will be as Father Moriarty. Vacate that body and return Steven.” His ultimatum only got him an annoyed glare.
“What didn’t you understand before? Steven is gone. He’s not coming back. He didn’t want to either. I told him this could be temporary, but he said no thanks! Get that through your thick skull, ok?” The demon stood, waving a hand casually as he spoke.
Oliver didn’t know what to expect next. He had never thought he would actually run into a demon. Oliver stood, trying to think clearly, silently begging the Lord to show him what to do as he closed the distanced between himself and the demon.
“You are not welcome here, demon. Now begone!” The demon froze at his words, staring at him wide eyed for a split second before screaming and sinking to the floor, screams turning to sobs. Oliver looked down, knowing that had to be too easy, but hoping anyways. What he hoped was Steven looked up at him, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve sinned, Father. I’ve sinned so much, forgive me.” A part of Oliver worried it was all an act. But if it wasn’t, and he acted harshly, how could he forgive himself? Slowly, cautiously, he knelt down beside Steven, praying for a sign of what to do.
“It is alright. I am here for you.” Steven sniffled as Oliver spoke, wiping his tears with his sleeve.
“Thank you, Father.” He paused, seeming unsure. Oliver met his eyes, the original blue still, slowly starting to relax. He had seen the demon’s eyes before, so he hoped that if this were a trick he would see them again.
“Do you have a question?” Steven nodded, swallowing before he spoke.
“It’s just… Father is so formal… Can I-“ He cut off, trying to get his breathing back to normal before continuing. “Can I call you daddy?”
As he smirked, Oliver once again saw those demonic eyes, accompanied by sharp teeth. He recoiled so quickly that he fell over, slamming onto the floor.
“Absolutely not you foul creature!” The demon stood, cackling.
“You’re such a fool! You think you can get rid of me that easily? Look.” The laughter faded and the demon’s tone turned serious. “I’m just living here. I don’t even really wanna be here. It’s the other guys you’ve gotta worry about!” Oliver’s eyes widened at that.
“The others?” The demon chuckled, looking down at Oliver.
“Oops! Me and my big mouth! Now you’ll have to go hunt down the actual trouble makers! Man, I can’t believe I ended up helping you!” Oliver snarled, doing his best to get to his feet.
“Not before I get rid of you.” The demon groaned, dragging a palm down his face.
“Really? Look, Oliver, you did your best, now just tell the kid’s parents whatever will help you sleep at night and get off my back before I have to do something about it.” Oliver glared into the demon’s eyes.
“And what are you-“ Before he could finish and faster than any human should be able to move, the demon grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against a wall.
“You’re no match for me, Oliver, and as fun as being choked is, I don’t much like being the giving end. Now will you either put me in my place and make me scream or just get out of my face?” Oliver squirmed in the demon’s grip, realizing quickly that he wasn’t squeezing hard enough to completely cut off his air flow. The demon was toying with him. One hand tried futilely to pry the demon’s fingers away, while the other fumbled for his cross.
“I refuse, demon. You will return to Hell!” The demon laughed as Oliver failed to pull free from his grasp.
“Oh yeah? How-OW!” The demon howled in pain as the antique silver came into contact with his hand, reeling back and releasing Oliver. As the demon fell away from him, Oliver gasped for breath, rubbing his neck. It was only a few moments later that he realized his cross was gone. He looked to the demon, cradling his hand on the floor.
“What did you do?!” The demon stood slowly, holding out his hand where the shape of the cross was burned into the back of it.
“You bound me!” He sounded angry, but almost immediately grinned. “Guess that means you’re Master now~” He laughed, only to choke on his laughter when Oliver punched him in the face.
“What are you talking about, demon?” The demon sighed, annoyance seeping into his words.
“That cross was a binding relic. Didn’t think any existed anymore. I am now bound to do your bidding, within certain restrictions.” Oliver stared, eyes wide. He had a pact with a demon? That sounded ridiculous. Then again, if someone had told him this trip would become meeting a demon, that would have sounded ridiculous this morning. Still, he knew his first and only order.
“Return to Hell.” The demon shook his head, rolling his eyes.
“You need to break the binding to banish me. Don’t you know anything about the relic you were wearing around your neck?” Oliver glared, deciding to ignore the demon’s question.
“Then you are going to help me find a way to break it. But first you will help me purge the world of these others you mentioned.” The demon laughed, clearly disbelieving.
“You want to play demon hunter?” Oliver groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“The Lord has put me in this situation for a reason.” The demon sighed.
“I’m not getting laid, am I?”
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impyssadobsessions · 1 year
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Random DPxDC Writing Excerpts
Here are some accidental scenes for fics that are not in the works and just concepts. : I That i wish not to work on right now but they came all the same. I GOT STORIES TO FINISH WHY BRAIN?! Anyways here they are. First one Is Danny being Jason's half-brother:
Jason dragged a chair over to the bed. He plopped down into the seat with a loud sigh, yanking off his helmet. He lay it on the bedside table as he ran his fingers through his hair. Steeling himself, he finally looked at Danny who was sleeping soundly in bed. His heart felt heavy. He clenched his fist trying to keep his anger down, but it stung. It stung a lot. Not only did they share a mother, they shared a similar fate. One Jason didn't wish on anyone, especially his little half-brother. He sniffed, cursing internally. He could have stopped this, if he knew- “Ya know, he looks pretty happy in the pictures before .. well.. recent ones.” Tim hummed as he awkwardly rubbed his arm. Jason glared at him, making Tim jump. “I mean- I know pictures are deceiving but.. I ..” Tim rubbed the back of his neck. “What Timmy saying is that, even if you knew he was out there.. I don't think you could have saved him. From all the reports, and some digging... They were a pretty happy family and honestly, not far off in the danger zone as we are.” Dick chimed in after patting Tim on the shoulder, making the teen jump again. Jason snorted, turning away from them. His insides burned. “Either way, it doesn't matter. Just like you, he's here now.” Dick whispered as he bent down next to Jason. “And he doesn't have to do this alone.” Jason sighed. He leaned forward on his knees. His eyes going back to the sleeping boy's form. His vitals were low, but his organs weren't failing. This was just his natural state. “He has you now, Little Wing. That's what's important.” Dick nudged Jason's shoulder. “What help I've been. I almost got him killed... Again!” “Actually, Babs was able to look into the video files. It wasn't Tailia. Nor the League of Assassins.” Tim spoke up again, pointing to the tablet in his hand. “Or the Joker, Or the-” “Get to the point copyright!” “Sheesh, alright alright. Here, look at this.” Tim tapped the tablet before handing it over to Jason to let him see. Jason furrowed his brows, “Men in white suits?” “Apparently, they're from the ghost investigation ward. A government funded agency. But look even closer.” His eyes widened as he stared where Tim was pointing. “Court of Owls.” “Yep. It looks like they're teaming up with the court to hunt down Phantom, in exchange for something called ectoplasm. It seems Tailia was only using Danny to lure them out.” “Or perhaps she wanted some for herself.” Dick added.
Second one is Danny crash landing on Kent's farm.
Danny felt like he was hit by a brick wall ten times over. He fought against his heavy eyelids as he felt warm light of the sun cast over him. He groaned and grunted as he forced himself awake. He took in a sharp breath, hissing from the light. He pushed himself up, rubbing the crust from his eyes. Man, he must have really conked out. He didn't remember even going to bed last night- Danny's eyes widened once they adjusted to the light. This wasn't his bed. There was a brown plaid blanket tossed over him and the bed was made of iron. He clenched the sheets that felt of old linen. His breaths quickened. “Well, now. I figured you be out for a bit longer. Glad to see ya awake, son.” Danny's eyes snapped to the figure in the door way. It was of an older man, wearing a button up shirt, jeans, and boots. “Take some deep breaths. You're safe here.” Then man held his hands up in front of him, as a sign he meant no harm. Danny tried to control his breathing, his hands still clenching tightly at the blankets. All his instincts were screaming to run... but where to? Where did he even? How did he even? He jerked his attention away from his thoughts when he felt rough hands gently lay on his. Danny jumped backwards out of the bed, falling into the floor. He scrambled up, hissing in pain. “Whoa whoa, take it easy son. I didn't mean to scare ya. You just looked like you were spiraling, is all. Look, I'll back up. Just focus on me, yeah?” The man backed up towards the wall, hands back up in front of him. Danny blinked as he caught his breath. He held an arm over his torso, his eyes staying on the man. He took a swallow of air, before finally nodding to the man. The panic having simmered down, as he realized if he wanted to hurt him, he could have. Danny flinched as a shot of pain went up his shoulder. “Come on back to bed, son. You need to rest those injuries.” “But, my family- my home..” Danny furrowed his brows as flashes of vague memories. Green lights, sounds of a struggle, and a huge machine winding up power. “They're... in danger... was in... I have to.” “You're not going to do anyone any good injured like that.” “But-” “Do you even know where you are? How to get back?” the man asked. Danny fell silent. He didn't. He wasn't even sure what happened. “Look, I don't blame ya for wanting to rush back into things,” The man sighed, “However, I know as a parent, I would hate if my son came back to die trying to save me.” Danny that line made him think of an orange hair girl who nagged about his safety. His sister.. Jazz. Sounded like something she would yell at him for. “I hear crashing from downstairs, is the boy alright-Oh Good Mornin' dear.” An older woman popped up into the doorway, wearing an apron. Danny furrowed his brows, before slightly raising his hand in a light wave. He glanced between the two. “Yer not scaring him, are you Jon?” The woman teased. “Not on purpose.” The man scratched the back of his head.
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Romantic Snippet Tag 💖💖💖
tagged by: jumping on @oh-no-another-idea 's open tag! (I remember being tagged for this game ages ago but I can't remember who or find the post for the life of me. if you tagged me here it is!)
tagging: Open Tag for whoever wants it! and soft tagging @winterandwords | @theimperiumchronicles | @italiangothicwriteblr | @space-writes | @ink-fireplace-coffee | @sleepyowlwrites | @words-after-midnight
I have thousands of words worth of angst for my babies Raven and Sapphire, but I'll be nice and give you some fluff I have instead from Draft 0 for Sleeping Beauty's Bodyguard:
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“Did you always want to be a knight?” “For a while. I wanted to protect myself and my family from bullies, and knights seemed like people that could do that. I didn’t sign up to be your bodyguard though…” “Do you ever wish you hadn’t become my bodyguard?”  “Sometimes-” Sapphire’s face fell and he quickly added. “-but other times I wouldn’t change it for the world. You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met, but… also the most happy and excited to live. I haven’t known a lot of people that were excited to just live.” “Why do you think I hate my parents' overprotective tendencies? They’re scared of me dying, I’m scared of spending all my time surviving rather than living. I want to live my life.” “Why are you excited to live?”  “Oh, there’s so many things to be excited for. Clear nights like this where you can see the whole sky. The festivals, and dancing and seeing all the lights at them. The feeling of the breeze blowing through your hair. Sunshine. Flowers and flower crowns. That feeling when you think you could take on the world.”  Her eyes flicked to his hands and heat crept up her neck. “Someone braiding your hair for you with care.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and looked at the flames of the campfire dance across the logs, mesmerized. “Listening to stories about magic and the gods. Splashing in a creek and not caring about getting wet. The sound of crickets at night. Fireflies…”  She added, “I’ve never seen them, fireflies… but I’ve heard of them, seen pictures. They light up all on their own and only come out at night, and if you're gentle you can even catch one.” She turned to Raven. “Have you ever seen one? A firefly?” Raven smiled a little, leaning forward and watching the campfire. “We have them all the time back home, there’s lots of big fields just outside our village- one behind our house. That’s where fireflies like to be, especially at night. They only come out after the sun goes down, and they don’t start showing up until summer, when it’s warmer at night. When me and my siblings were small, we used to catch them and keep them in jars that my ma’ma had- she did make us release them after a few hours, but at least releasing them was the fun part. It’s like holding fire- the sun, moon, and stars themselves in your hands.” She said softly, “Maybe you could show me one day.” He couldn’t help his smile getting bigger as he looked at her and his heart fluttered. “I would like that.”
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gracehosborn · 13 days
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Heads Up Seven Up Tag Game
Thanks to @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag--even if its a month late!
Rules: post the last seven lines you wrote in your work-in-progress, then tag some friends to play along.
From a fun scene I've been revising in Ink of Destruction:
“Were you a historical reenactor at any point? Or are you an independent historian? That sword looks very similar to ones used in the Civil War or earlier.” At this, Mr. Waiter, to my surprise, let out a small laugh. “Oh, no.” he said, looking back up towards me. “I have never participated in a reenactment, but you are correct that this sword is quite old. It appears to me that it’s a British officer’s hanger, used during the American Revolution. Which should—“ as he spoke, he moved his right hand to firmly grasp the hilt, lifting the sword into the air with a grand swoosh “—be sufficient enough to get you untied.”
Reading this out of context just makes me laugh. Love the dynamic between Alexandra and this guy.
Leaving this as an open tag for anyone who wants to play!
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hellsrebellion · 4 months
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' "Roman, Roman.." Lucifer says in a quiet, exasperated reprimand. Chiding a child in his eyes; a rebellious, petulant child. The doppelganger's head shakes slowly back and forth as it strides across the dark space toward him and despite taking on the form of his own meat suit, Roman still tenses once he's in proximity. The dark orbs of his mirror having taken on a million-mile stare-- eyes that had seen an eternity and would likely see an eternity more.
It was a dream, he tried to remind himself; there was no way that Lucifer could do any harm to him in this plane of existence… but the cold chill that runs up his spine says otherwise. Roman swallows tightly, fighting every urge within him that warns him to run. Flee. Lucifer's expression shift knowingly when he sees it in Roman's eyes.
Fear.
"I would never hurt you." he says to him in a gentle voice, brows furrowing with seeming confusion that Roman would believe he would. "I'm not my Father." He adds, head of unruly hair shaking again slowly. "Do you really believe you've survived by chance? That it hasn't been by command?" He questions, head tilting in slight as he searches Roman's gaze. "It's because of Me that you have free will--that you exist at all. My Father may have condemned me and struck me down for thinking for myself.. but I would never do that to my children." He says in a calm voice. "Even if some of my children condemn me instead." He adds sadly.
Roman swallows again, his dark orbs shifting rapidly on Lucifer's within his own. "That energy gonna stay the same when I keep your other spawns from busting you out the cage?" He questions gruffly.
A smile quirks onto Lucifer's mouth in a flash of amusement, but it dissipates as quickly as it spreads and he lightly swallows himself as he nods. "I'm certain it would.. but there's a bigger picture here Roman, you and I both know that. We all have roles to play." He says in the same deep, calm voice. "This crusade that you and your brothers are on.. for Jericho there's only one outcome, no other is acceptable. But for you..? That outcome could change, depending on circumstances." He explains, confusion etching into Roman's features. "Do you really believe Camilla Remington's fate is by chance?" Lucifer questions quieter, hand clasping around his wrist behind his back as he leans toward him in slight.
Roman's expression stiffens at the mention of her, dark orbs narrowing on his own and Lucifer gives an amused 'hmph' as his brows quirk upward. "The thing is.. Roman.." he sighs again slowly, leaning back out of his space to turn his back on him and stride back through the darkness. The dim and dying candlelight flickers across the cracked stone walls that surround them. "..I know what the outcome is.. no matter the circumstances, no matter what changes.. I know the way that this ends." he says finally, turning back halfway to return his gaze to Roman.
"-enlighten me." Roman spits quickly, his deep baratone dropping an octave with impatience.
Another faint smile lifts at the corner of Lucifer's mouth. "Would it matter? I told you, no matter what.. nothing changes." he shrugs. "Just like no matter what you do, no matter what Jericho tells you to do.. you can't douse that fire burning inside you every time you look into Her eyes." he says knowingly, gaze narrowing across the space at him. "She frightens you, because you know you would do anything to keep her. Your decisions don't revolve around this war anymore… they revolve around Her." He lifts a hand slowly to tap index to his temple once, brow quirking upward.
Roman's chest rises and falls slightly heavier, jaws jutting against his cheeks as he glares at Lucifer.
"You're wrong." He says, his voice nearly a low growl.
But Lucifer only smiles again slowly at him. "I don't think I am.. and I think that we'll both understand how right that I am in the coming months." He shifts his gaze on Roman's one last time, nodding before he turns to slowly stride off and disappear into the darkness. "I'll see you soon, Roman." the disembodied voice says gently.
The candlelight surrounding snuffs out entirely and it sounds like the walls were crumbling to rubble around him, stone hitting stone.
The earth quakes beneath Roman's feet.
A sharp gasp of breath floods into Roman's lungs as he abruptly snaps awake, dark orbs wide and taking in his surroundings. It had been a long time.. since he'd been at ease enough for sleep to even find him. It was the only reason it had taken this long for Lucifer to snake his way in; he'd likely been waiting for a goddamn window into Roman's head. He goes to sit up, finding a blanket tossed over him and his dark gaze lowers to it from that couch as it slides off his chest down to his lap. His head turns to look down the hallway toward Camilla's bedroom, the light off and apartment quiet. Another breath leaves him in a huff as his head of unruly hair hangs, dark orbs shutting and hand lifting to drag down his face.
The experience left him rattled, Lucifer's words echoing in his mind.
'I told you, no matter what.. nothing changes.'
It only causes that deep-seated sense of inevitability to feel more solidified.. palpable. He could do the exact opposite of what he believed Lucifer would want him to do and it would still be what he wanted. The anger that had been brewing in his chest during the confrontation had only faded into the same resignation he usually felt when it came to Camilla.. because Lucifer wasn't wrong. He could try to convince Him otherwise, but he was beyond the point of lying to himself about it-- she had a hold on him.
One that Lucifer was aware of too.
Dread floods his system, an ice cold coarsing through his veins; wondering what the purpose would be in letting both Camilla and he live, if Lucifer actually had any control over that. His mind races as he tries to think of reasoning.. and the only train of thought he lands on was from Lucifer's own words: '--because you know you would do anything to keep her. Your decisions don't revolve around this war anymore… they revolve around Her.'
Roman sits on that couch, forearms resting draped against his knees as his dark orbs drift around that apartment deep in thought.
Not knowing up from down in that moment…
all he knew was that he was in really deep shit. '
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thegreatobsesso · 1 year
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Find the word tag (time, sell, alive, number, guess)
I was tagged by @jamieanovels, thank you, friend!
time
Simon POV
And the sex, well, it was about as impersonal as sex could possibly be and that was just fine. The only time he even felt like he had anything to do with it was when she asked him to say it again.
“Huh?” he asked, having absolutely no idea what the last thing he said might’ve been.
“That it’s only me,” she said from above him, red hair stuck to her forehead in sweaty strands. “That I’m different from everyone else. That I’m special. Say it.”
Oh, that. “It’s only you,” he repeated. He’d have sung a sea shanty if it got her moving again. “You’re special.”
She threw her head back and laughed, breathless and deep; satisfied in a way he let slip right by, didn’t try to understand any better, because, well, he just didn’t really care.
He just moved to sit up, to relieve her of at least some of the work, but she shoved him right back down and carried on.
sell
baby!Riley POV
“Oh, honey,” her mother said, more softly than she’d spoken before, and raised a hanky to Riley’s tear-stained cheeks. “That was a bad one, wasn’t it?”
But Riley was itchy and hot in the black tulle dress her mother had bought for her and she’d rip it off and sell it back to the expensive store if it meant she could go to bed for the night, but she knew they had one more client coming, soon.
“You can be brave one more time tonight, can’t you?”
Thirteen was too old to be spoken to like this, to have her hair petted, her dress smoothed, her tears disregarded as a tantrum. But she knew how fast her mother’s doting could turn to shrill exasperation and it was just once more, and then she could go to bed and pray none of the ghosts followed her there.
“Yes, mum.”
alive
Callie POV
She poked Riley’s shoulder but she didn’t have the chance to follow it up with a are you alive? because Riley flinched so violently and suddenly, Callie almost jumped out of her own skin.
“Don’t,” Riley rasped, folding even further in on herself. “Don’t touch me.”
Oh, shit. Callie cast a quick glance around to make sure nobody was watching before sitting down next to Riley, shielding her as best she could from the rest of the museum.
“What is your damage?” she whispered, making damn sure to leave a few solid inches of space between them.
“There’s a consciousness stuck to one of them, the mummies,” she spat, squeezing her eyes shut. “They stick to their own bodies sometimes, and it’s just… it’s loud. And strong.”
She looked like she was in pain, fighting something off with all her might. It stirred something kinda nauseating in Callie’s stomach, a fuzzy ache. “Are you gonna start talking like King Tut or something?”
number
Riley POV
“Simon Bennett asks about you all the time, you know,” she says with a wink. Riley’s sure all the time is an exaggeration, and that he’s not asking for the reason her mother assumes. “I tell him that aside from a phone number, I hardly even know how to get in touch with you anymore, let alone what you’re doing or how you’re doing.”
Riley dutifully shoves the last bite of tiramisu into her mouth - eating all her mother’s food is a show of goodwill, one she knows will help her case. “I told you, I’m doing some work that I can’t freely talk about.”
“Oh, yes yes, I know. My brilliant, important daughter.” She beams with pride as if Riley’s just shown a foaming volcano at the science fair. “One of these days I’m gonna pick up a newspaper and I’ll see your name. Riley Silver’s work changes the world, it’ll say.”
Maybe, if things went far enough sideways. “We’ll see about that,” is all she says in reply. “Mom, there’s something I wanna ask you.”
guess
Callie POV
“You know who I am?” she asked from her bed, not bothering to look away from her magazine.
“You’re Callie Ray,” she gulped. Callie spared her a single glance – Christ, she couldn’t have been any more than twenty. She clutched her plastic bag of toiletries like a shield.
“And you are?”
“Veronica,” she said. “Ronnie, my, my friends call me Ronnie.”
She smirked. “Well, nobody here’s your friend, so I guess your name’s Veronica. And you have to call me Red Panther. That’s my prison name.”
Veronica blinked. “Really?”
“No, you idiot. God, you’re gonna get eaten alive.”
Tagging @diphthongsfordays, @afoolandathief, @pertinax--loculos, @winterandwords and @i-can-even-burn-salad with the new words start, go, continue, end, and complete :)
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