#!self-para

[scxmichiko]

─ The killing of the sacred deers

[TRIGGER WARNING]

─ Samcheok; Apartamento dos gêmeos Moon, madrugada do dia 02 de Outubro.

Chegando no apartamento o odor foi o que lhe chamou a atenção. Não fazia muito tempo que estavam mortos, por que então a casa cheirava a carne putrefata e ferro? Era um palpite que ruminava em sua mente. Seriam dois atacantes ou apenas um? Seguiria o sangue, o primeiro corpo lhe daria respostas. O primeiro a achar foi Sungho. Sungho estava em seu quarto, algumas garrafas pareciam estar próximos ao corpo, que novamente pareceu estar dissecado, o torso aberto em duas incisões, as costelas arrancadas e jogadas ao lado, e o coração a mostra, completamente isento de marcas, a não ser pelos pregos que o espetavam de todas as formas. O sorriso no rosto do rapaz foi desenhado com uma navalha, ou algo bem mais afiado, e o fígado, em seu colo, estava numa coloração que dava indícios de alguém que aproveitava do álcool.

Michiko engoliu a bile, a raiva era maior. Ninguém merecia ser destratado, desumanizado daquela forma. Encheu o pulmão, seguindo as marcas de sangue pelo corredor, até encontrar no fim do caminho uma porta fechada. Sungwoo era uma história completamente diferente. Abrindo a porta, entendeu por que o cheiro de necrose assolava o lugar. Aquilo deveria ser obra de mais de uma pessoa, não seria possível.

O rapaz que tinha algumas tatuagens, tinha alguns de seus jogos favoritos em um armário de vidro, lacrado, estava sentado no chão, as costas apoiadas contra a cama, e os orbes abertos. Quem o olhasse no escuro, poderia jurar que ele estava apenas divagando de olhos entreabertos. Porém com a luz acesa, seria possível ver, os pulsos quase decepados, o sangue jorrou pelo carpete cinzento, o molhando, as janelas fechadas contribuíram para que coagulasse mais rápido. Seu peito estava aberto, entretanto parecia que nenhum órgão estava sumido. Ao menos sobre a roupa. As entranhas só iriam se expor caso alguém movesse a camiseta de Legend of Zelda, o baço foi removido, o coração empalado com espinhos, porém algo era diferente de Sungho. O rapaz chorava sangue… Por trás de sua cabeça era possível ver que pinos haviam sido inseridos na base de seu crânio. O sangue se alojou nos orifícios oculares, e davam aquela imagem. Era um anjo pintando em desespero. Assim como o irmão.

Aquilo era obra de um monstro. Uma horda de monstros estava solta em Samcheok, e agora seu capitão deveria ouvir o que a japonesa tinha a dizer, caso contrário, mais corpos iriam se empilhar na pacata cidade.

[sfsc-sophie-blog]

Tired of get so mad.

After lunch, garden  ㅡ w. sfsc-anthony

O dia mal havia chegado na metade e Sophie já se encontrava no seu limite para tudo, ainda que esperava que aquele dia fosse bom. Após terminar o primeiro maçante horário de aulas, a garota mudou seu trajeto até o dormitório e não demorou muito para que tudo começasse a dar errado naquele momento. O motivo era o de sempre: Seu pai. Sabia que não receberia uma notícia boa já que as únicas ligações que ainda recebia do Sr. Bae era mais uma desculpa para que a garota fosse maltratada por ele.

Passou mais tempo do que deveria olhando para o visor acesso de seu celular enquanto o mesmo tocava anunciando a ligação. A ideia de ignorar passou por sua cabeça um milhão de vezes e sabia que isso poderia ser pior, já que claramente não ouviria que seu progênitor sentira falta da caçula da família, era impossível. Um último suspiro e havia finalmente atendido, já se arrependo assim que ouviu seu nome completo vindo da outra linha.

Andou devagar em direção ao jardim enquanto lutava ao máximo contra as lágrimas que insistiam em cair naquele momento mas seu orgulho não iria deixar que ela desabasse naquele momento, mais do que havia desabado há instantes atrás. Já que era horário de aula, o lugar se encontrava extremamente quieto e Sophie agradecia mentalmente por isso, já que ter a companhia de alguém era o que ela menos queria. Não demorou muito para pegar o celular e colocou na playlist que ela costumava ouvir quando tinha crises como essa, esta que tocava no volume máximo em seus fones de ouvido. Ficou ali por um tempo, sentada enquanto sentia a música tomar conta de seus pensamentos e impedir que a vontade de marcar sua pele voltasse para ela mais uma vez.

[sfsc-seungwan-blog]

Stu-dying

monday ; dorm @ saint francis 

A semana mal havia começado e Seungwan já havia milhares de coisas pra fazer. Além das aulas obrigatórias, haviam as atividades dos clubes para terminar e ela precisava estudar Francês, já que sentia-se incomodada com sua pronúncia. 

Após voltar do clube de Fotografia, se jogou na cama com todos os livros sobre ela, já resmungando ao ver o tamanho do texto no outro idioma que precisava ler para a próxima aula do clube. Ligou o notebook, mas antes passou todas as fotos que tirara naquele dia para montar o projeto de seu clube, editando-as da maneira que deveria. Logo, colocou na playlist que sempre ouvia quando precisava estudar ou fazer qualquer outra coisa e começou a recitar as primeiras frases que havia ali.   — II a mis le café, dans la tasse. II a mis le lait. Dans la tasse de café, II a mis le sucre. Dans le café au lait, avec la petite cuiller. 

Passou quarenta minutos estudando a língua, mudando para fazer todas as atividades que teria para entregar no dia seguinte. Fórmulas, nomes enormes para decorar e números gigantes para calcular. Passou o resto da tarde assim, sozinha com os livros e uns copos de café. Terminou de fazer tudo quando já era noite e assim saiu do quarto, tomou banho e foi encontrar o pessoal. Queria que o dia passasse logo, teria planos naquela noite e estava ansiosa por isso.

[atcmicorgasms]

who→ Stella & Scott with brief mentions of the Maddon parents & Finnegan Wallace what→ Parts 5-8 of an 11 part Stella-palooza (parts 1-4 can be located here) when→ the end of April, May and June 2015 (parts 5), June 2015 (part 6), July 2015 (parts 7 & 8) word count→ Part five: 1131, Part six: 640, Part seven: 722, Part eight: 521 for a total of 3,014 words warnings→ death. lots of death. seriously. there’s so much death in here that not even the river Styx has enough boats. And with the death comes mourning

v.

She could barely hear what he was saying over the crackle of the phone, but for Stella, it was enough to settle some of her worries. It was late for her to even be awake but for Scott, she made that exception like she did when he wasn’t in a dangerous area. She had settled into bed, pulling the hockey jersey she had stolen from Scott closer to her and tucking her legs under her body. A soft laugh escaped her as she heard bits and pieces of the story he was recounting to her about what something one of the men in his company had done a few days before. Stella was holding it together for him, knowing that their conversation would have to tide her over for what could be months before the next time she heard his voice. She held onto that glimmer of hope, knowing that the two of them were marking the days in their calendars before she’d be at the airport to welcome him home. Despite the crackle of the static over the phone, Stella had her security blanket assuring her he was fine and staying as safe as he could and she held onto that. He had done this before, he wouldn’t have re-enlisted if he wasn’t prepared for this. Scott was going to come home to her and that helped to keep her going.

In the background, Stella could hear the shouts of some of the other men followed by what sounded like gunfire. Before she could ask what was going on, much more alert now that the white noise in the background had dramatically shifted, Scott told her to hold on, presumably leaving the phone on the nearest surface. Stella found herself holding her breath as she listened to the commotion on the other end of the line: men shouting, gunfire, boots crunching on gravel and then…silence. Stella could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for some sort of clarification, silently praying that it was all a drill. Everything would be okay, it was a drill and that in a few seconds, Scott would continue with whatever the story was.

It took a few more moments of silence before footsteps could be heard and the sound of the phone being picked up met her ears. The person on the other end of the line was breathing heavily and the breath she herself had been holding had been released. Stella knew those heavy breaths, everything was alright, Scott was safe.

Then all hell broke loose.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can. I love you.” Before Stella could or Scott could even hang up, an explosion sounded, followed by a piercing scream from Stella. Her phone clattered to the floor, the dial tone of their disconnected conversation humming from her end. Her worst nightmare had come true and all she could do was sit in the darkened bedroom in silence, her heart shattering as it all began to sink in. Stella let out a choked sob, shaking her head, as if the motion would change the past. She clutched a pillow to her chest, replaying the last five minutes over and over again. Each time the explosion was deafening, Scott’s final words growing softer and softer.

Scott Briggs was g o n e. Lost forever.

Little by little, Stella went numb, the reality of what was going to happen next hitting her like a ton of bricks. In a few days time there would be a knock on her door and she would open it, the notifying officer and a chaplain there to deliver the bad news and offer her their condolences, a medic on standby and another officer should she get violent. She would be as prepared as possible to handle it, or so she hoped, nobody wanted to relive the worst day of their life over and over again. Stella knew what would happen and knew what she would have to do but that was a phone call she didn’t want to have to make. Not while she was still processing it herself. Not while those words echoed.

‘I’ll call you as soon as I can. I love you.’

There was no sleep to be had that night for Stella Maddon. She had nobody to turn to at such a late hour, she had nobody to comfort her. Her comfort was taken from her and he was going to be gone forever. It was one of the few times that she wished she believed in a higher being, so she could bargain with them, with anybody. The next week found Stella in a state of shock, there was still no word from the military and still no word from Scott. She managed to remember to call into work, her voice raspy with lack of use, but shut herself in, only ever venturing outside to take Tycho out but it was never for long and she never strayed very far from the door.

She reemerged three weeks after, a shell of the person she had once been. She spoke softer and avoided many points of conversation that would have once gotten her riled up. She still hadn’t returned to work, going in to the station to formally request an extended leave of absence. The station manager granted it, if only for the hopes that when she returned she would come back to them.

What was left of her heart sunk as she arrived home one afternoon, finding a very official looking vehicle outside and two men waiting at her front door. She froze in her tracks at the sight of them, the confirmation she didn’t want waiting for her. Slowly, Stella approached the men, preparing herself for what they were going to say.

“Miss Maddon?” the rest of what the men had to say fell upon deaf ears. She had heard it herself those weeks ago, replaying the nightmare every moment since. She accepted their condolences and entered her home, closing the door behind her. She waited until the car had left before making any sort of move, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. With trembling hands she slowly dialed a number, working to keep her breathing steady as she waited for the answer.

“St-Stephanie? I-it’s Stella. They just came by the apartment. H-he’s gone.” Stella remained silent, wiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks as the other woman processed the news. A simple ‘thank you, I’ll tell Owen’ was the reply before she hung up. She dialed another number, hesitating before hitting call. It continued to ring, despite Stella’s better wishes that they pick up.

‘You’ve reached Scott, I’m not available at the moment but leave a message and I’ll get back to you ASAP.’

vi. 

It had been four weeks, three days and fifteen hours since the explosion. Even less time since the notifying officer and chaplain were at her front door. Even longer since Stella had a good night’s sleep. If one were to look at her call log, they would see plenty of incoming phone calls from her parents, concerned co-workers and friends. The amount of outgoing calls however, was twice as much, each one the length of a long voicemail, each one to the same person. The desk calendar still had a diagonal line going through each day, counting down until the day in 2016 when everything would be right again.

It had been six days, two hours and twenty minutes since Stella received confirmation of what she already knew. The outgoing calls were still made, the days were still being crossed off, the routine had become even more normal than her former usual routine. Stella had made the room in her home for well-wishers, people that were there for her sake and they all were equally concerned when the woman would step outside for ten or so minutes to make a phone call and return looking as drained as over.

It had been one hour, forty-six minutes and eight seconds. Nine. Ten. Eleven. They left her alone, standing at the gravesite, giving her that time to herself. Nobody dared to try to get her to move, Xavier and Loren the only ones daring to stand at a close enough distance to make sure that Stella didn’t do anything drastic. They watched her crouch down, dropping the flower she had clung onto for the past hour and fifty-two minutes into the hole and stand up once more, turning to face them. Loren made the first move, wrapping her daughter into a tight hug, only to have one half-heartedly returned.

“I forgot to mark the calendar this morning.” Stella commented after a few moments, her lips forming into a frown. Her parents exchanged a look before tucking her under their arms and ushering her towards the car. “I called him but I forgot to mark the calendar.” a derisive laugh escaped her as she got into the car, Xavier sitting in the back with her while Loren took to driving.

“Stella,” he started, another look shared with his wife through the rearview mirror, “do you remember what we told you when your grandma died?” Stella nodded, turning to look out the window as they headed off to where the post-funeral reception would be held.

“You said Grandma was going to become the star the twinkled the brightest in the night sky. I was five, I didn’t understand what you meant. That star is Sirius, the twinkling is due to our atmosphere passing in front of the light molecules, it’s not Grandma, it won’t be Scott. He’s fine.” Xavier cleared his throat, preventing the chuckle that wanted to escape from fully sounding. It was all well and good until the kid got old enough to know the names of the stars and how astronomy worked. “I already told that to Owen, he won’t speak to me at all, but I gave him that to hold on to.“

"Stella.”

“He’s missing, they couldn’t produce a body, he’s just missing.” Stella’s voice was firm, the first time in weeks. “Don’t take that away from me. Come next September, he’ll be home. He wouldn’t do that to me. To Owen. He’s coming home.” Her eyes met her father’s, face hardened. Xavier backed down at the look, sighing in resignation.

“You’re right. We just want you to be as okay as possible. We’re overstepping, you knew him best.”

“Just-” Loren sighed, “just remember what we told you when you were five when you go outside and look at the sky. You’re both looking at the same sky, Stella.”

vii.

Sympathy was a terrible thing to be the recipient of. The hushed tones, the gentle touches, the constant need to know how she was doing. Denial had left Stella and numbness returned, leaving her in a catatonic state. She stayed on a delay,  everything taking a few passing seconds to reach her and a few more before she responded. Her answers became monosyllabic, short, detail free. It quickly became the new norm for her. There were a select few people who didn’t show Stella sympathy, made her feel a little bit human and treated her as they did before. The novelty of someone else’s tragedy was wearing off and Stella could see that while those sympathetic to her continued to walk on eggshells around her, they were beginning to crack a few.

She had gone back to work some two weeks after the funeral and she was put on light duties: morning forecasts at 6, 6:30, 7, 9 and 10. She was home by eleven and watched as the news team turned from the light hearted news in the morning to the heavier things that would be elaborated more on the 5 o'clock news. It annoyed her to some extent,  the eggshells of not wanting her to hear about darker material and having a break down at work. She appreciated the concern for her wellbeing and she could only insist she was fine for so long before they either believed her or she truly was fine. Stella wanted to get back to normal and work was the best way to do it. Slowly but surely, things were pointing towards Stella returning to some sort of version of herself.

Then her birthday drew near. She was anxious, (who wouldn’t when they were now five years closer to forty?) and there was a bit of fear written on her face whenever someone brought the new month into conversation. She never cared much about her birthdays in the past, choosing to not celebrate them as they were close to the fourth of July. Stella had to remind herself that it was just another rotation around the sun. Nothing more, nothing less.

There was a knock on the apartment door causing Stella to look up from the computer. There were no visitors to expect and she hadn’t ordered anything lately. Besides, anybody that would be coming over would have at least sent her a message letting her know they were coming. She looked through the peephole and took a step back at the sight of a bouquet of flowers. Her interaction with the delivery man was short, Stella taking the flowers and thanking them before shutting the door. The bouquet was beautiful, hues of purple sweet peas and anemone with the odd baby’s breath for effect and for a moment, Stella was stunned. She plucked the card from the holder and read over it before dropping it to the floor. Her eyes turned towards the vase in her hands, the flowers, ordered months in advance, the card on the floor with the simple message, the thought that was put into this surprise.

The vase crashed against the wall, sending flowers, water and glass spraying everywhere, waking Tycho from his nap at the noise, causing him to bark a couple of times. Stella stared at where the vase had landed, chest heaving with unshed anger. She slid against the door, letting out a groan of frustration, anger, resentment. Stella’s hands covered her face, doing her best not to cry or scream or do both. How could she have forgotten? Of course this would happen, Scott had always sent her flowers for her birthday and this year wouldn’t have been any different, knowing that he was going to be gone. Stella cursed to herself, cursing Scott, cursing that she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for this. She didn’t deserve this, it wasn’t supposed to happen to her, she wasn’t supposed to receive such a lovely gift to only chuck it at the wall. She was done with it all. Slowly, she stood and moved towards the kitchen to get the broom and dustpan to sweep up her mess, slowing her breathing in order to focus on the task at hand. Stella would have to work through it one step at a time. One long step at a time.

viii.

She woke up in a cold sweat, clutching her heaving chest as she glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings. The alarm clock on the side of her bed blinked a glaring red time at her. It took a moment to adjust to the time. 2:14 AM. She swallowed, breaths slowing down as the room came into focus around her. Stella threw the blankets off of her and scooted off of the bed, deciding a glass of water would help her. Stella padded out of the room and down the hall towards the soft glow of the living room where she must have left the TV on in her desire to go to bed. How she got into bed, she couldn’t quite remember but she must have gone before sleep completely took her over.

A figure was slightly slumped over on her couch, the soft sounds of a Ken Burns dustbowl documentary reaching her ears as she approached. Stella smiled softly at the sight of Finn fast asleep on her couch. Instead of going to get the glass of water she had wanted, Stella grabbed the throw blanket on the opposite corner of the couch Finn was on and sat next to him, tucking her feet under her body. Stella covered the two of them up with the blanket, resting her head against his shoulder. Finn shifted before turning his head to meet Stella’s, resting it on top of hers. “You didn’t have to stay.” she mumbled, raising her hand to card through his hair. “I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t want to leave you by yourself after earlier.” she nodded, allowing her hand to rest on his cheek, fixing him with a tired smile. Finnegan put his hand over Stella’s, squeezing it lightly. They sat there for a moment, eyes fixed on the black and white pictures as Ken Burns droned on, filling them with facts, old and new on the Dust Bowl. “Are you okay? I know the fireworks weren’t the best idea you’ve had lately.” he could feel her flinching against him, the memory of just hours before still fresh in her mind. Finn rubbed her shoulder in a comforting manner, pressing his lips against the crown of Stella’s head as he did before. It was all he could do for Stella to keep her from fully lashing out early on.

She stilled in his arms again, holding onto Finnegan a little tighter than before. It wasn’t the greatest moment for her in recent months, but then again, she was still waiting for things to get better for herself. Having Finn with her at the time was a great help, as it had been over the course of the past month or so. Slowly, he became the person she called in the middle of the night with whatever nightmare had woken her up and if she was completely distraught, he would come over if Hazel couldn’t. Stella nuzzled into Finn’s shoulder, making a soft noise of contentment before her eyes trailed up to him.

“I’m fine, you staying with me has helped a lot. Thank you, Finn.”

[atcmicorgasms]

who→ Stella & Scott with brief mentions of Roman Wilkins in the later parts what→ Parts 1, 2, 3 and 4 of an 11? part Stella-palooza when→ December 2014 (parts 1 & 2), January 2015 (part 3), April 2015 (part 4) word count→ Part one: 697, Part two: 946, Part three: 755, Part four: 485 for a total of 2,883 words warnings→ mentions of infidelity, part 3 does involve some public emotional manipulation

i. 

The motion of one side of her bed moving at two in the morning was something that wasn’t unusual. In the past few months it had become a rarity and the current movement of the mattress caused her eyes to shoot open. The covers moved, offering a brief encounter with the cool night air. A warm arm wound it’s way around the woman’s waist, her own senses heightening as she felt the owner’s warm breath against her ear.

“Surprise.” the voice whispered, ending his sentence with a soft kiss to her temple. Stella rolled over, nearly smacking the other person in the face as she sat up. A smile broke out over the woman’s features as she settled into the other’s lap, lightly placing her hands on his shoulders. She lowered herself to bring her forehead to his, rubbing their noses. “I take it that you missed me?” he chuckled, bringing his own hands to rest on Stella’s waist before raising up enough to meet her with a kiss.

“What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you until next year.” she seemed breathless as she spoke, her tone barely above a whisper. Stella spoke against his lips, her hair forming a curtain around them, “Not that I’m not glad to see you, Briggs, but you were the last person I was expecting to see.” She couldn’t help the happiness coating her words or the kisses that acted as pauses in her speech. Even with all the fun she had been having with Roman in Scott’s absence, it only made her heart grow fonder. At her words, her phone lit up with a text message, the two of them glancing to look at the light. “That from you?” she joked, sitting up to reach for it. Scott’s hand closed over her own, the other entwining itself in her hair.

“Not from me. Who do you know that sends you texts in the middle of the night? I highly doubt hot stove season has breaking news before six am.”  Scott held onto her hand, bringing it back to rest against his chest. “As much as I love the idea that the Yankees are replacing Jeter with someone who was in AAA for most of the last season, that’s not exactly worth interrupting us time.” Stella nodded, moving to lay against him once more, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, something she missed as the months had ticked by. Her phone lit up with another message and Stella reached for it once more, this time with no protest from Scott as she opened the message. Even in the darkness, Scott could see Stella’s face flushing as she looked over the two messages. His eyebrows raised in interest as she gaped open-mouthed at the screen. He gently pushed the phone to where he could see it, his own eyes widening at the picture of the half-naked man taking up the woman’s screen. His eyes trailed back towards her face, the hints of a frown starting to settle upon his features. “Care to explain?” the woman shook her head, bringing her lips to his to silence any further questions. Scott put Stella’s phone on the bedside table before bringing his hands to rest on the woman’s waist, sliding underneath the oversized t-shirt she wore. Stella’s fingers gently wrapped around his wrists, shaking her head as she did so.

“It’s two in the morning,” she told him, sliding them back down. Stella climbed off of him, leaning back once again to kiss her boyfriend once more. “As much as I love you and would love to give you a proper greeting, I still have to be up for work in two hours. I’m going to be at the station all day tomorrow unless they can find someone else to cover for Jae in the afternoon. I need my beauty rest. Besides, you take tomorrow to spend time with Owen, he misses you way more than I ever could.”

“I’ll come down for lunch.” Stella nodded at their new lunch plans before moving into his chest, draping one arm over his side.

ii.

Scott’s homecoming was a welcome one; Stella’s routine not changing much, except for the woman now adjusting to having the second body in her apartment once more. While she was at work, Scott took the initiative to decorate the place for Christmas and do any of the shopping she had yet to attend to. It was an easy adjustment and with Stella coming home close to midnight most nights, they stayed up late and spent most of their mornings laying in bed until of the two got hungry. They were inseparable in that time, very rarely leaving the other’s side and very rarely remaining clothed for too long. Owen, Scott’s son, had been coming over after school or rehearsal and spent the first weekend with the couple, painting the picture of the perfect family for the most part. The Briggs-Maddon family couldn’t have been happier.

The eve of Owen’s recital brought a bit of chaos to the couple. Scott, still not entirely convinced that his son was fit for ballet (or much really), begrudgingly dressed for the night while Stella continued to chatter on about his son’s progress on blossoming in the program and becoming the Nutcracker Prince (on a fluke, but who would complain about getting a leading role?). They left the apartment hand in hand, Stella’s eyes concentrated on the screen of her phone. Scott could hear her muttering under her breath as she sent hasty text messages, some followed by expletives.

“Goddamnit,” she grumbled, dropping her phone in her lap. Stella crossed her legs, letting out a sigh, “I’m looking to lose in my fantasy league, I can tell it’s frustrating to be a Rays fan and the Nats haven’t made any sort of movement in these trades.” This was met with a soft touch on the top of her head and a chuckle. “As a sports fan, this is frustrating, as an anchor this is exciting. I’m walking on a different line.”

“Can I ask you something completely unrelated?” Stella nodded at his question, turning to look at him. “Who’s Roman?” Stella narrowed her eyes at him, chewing on the inside of her cheek. It was true in her excitement that she forgot to mention that she had gone out a few times with the other man and while Stella had been avoiding most of Roman’s texts and calls, she figured it wouldn’t come up. “If he’s one of your work friends, I just find it weird that he’s sending you those messages.” Stella remained silent, unsure of how exactly to answer him. Scott was understanding for the most part giving Stella free reign in their relationship when he was out of town. The fact that he was questioning her now, after nine years, gave her pause. They had been honest with each other from the start and in that time, they hadn’t been involved with an outside body until recently. Until Roman. “I’m not mad, I just would have preferred it if you said something to me sooner about it.”

“We’ve gone out a couple of times, that’s it. It’s not like I’ve been able to get in contact with you until recently. In the time you’ve been home I’ve been a bit more preoccupied with you than anything, so it slipped my mind. There’s nothing going on between us beyond that.” She could tell he wasn’t satisfied with that answer. Stella could tell that Scott would have rathered that she didn’t give him an answer at all. “Briggs,” she continued “I swear, nothing major happened. I haven’t done anything with him that I wouldn’t do with you.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted it. She knew what it meant and the sudden stopping of the car signified that Scott didn’t take her freudian slip too lightly. The car began moving once more, a thick silence overtaking their conversation.

They parked outside of the studio, still not a word between them. Scott’s hand reached out for Stella’s before she could open the door, causing the woman to turn to him. She watched as he dug into his coat pocket, fumbling with something between his hands. Outside of the car, the excited chattering of parents and friends of the dancers could be heard while the silence between Scott and Stella became palpable.

“Stella,” he began, bringing her hand closer to his own body, “I didn’t think that I’d have to worry about someone coming between us. I don’t like having to think that that could be happening. I was going to wait for a much better time but there’s no time like the present.” The man cleared his throat, no longer fiddling with the item and taking her other hand in his. “Stella Maddon,” Scott straightened up as best he could in the vehicle, “I love you, more than words can say. I-” he let go of her hands in order to open the item - a small box - and show her the contents. “Will you marry me?”

Stella’s jaw dropped at the question. She hadn’t been expecting it, after no indication earlier in their relationship, she was content to stay in the common law marriage they had. Now that it had come, she was stunned speechless. Scott’s hopeful expression had begun to fall as the seconds ticked by and Stella had yet to give him an answer.

“Can I think about it? Stella asked, folding her hands in her lap. “I know it’s not the answer you wanted but I just...need to think.” she leaned over, placing a kiss against his cheek, “remember, I didn’t say no. Let’s go, we’re going to miss Owen’s performance.”

iii. 

“Do you even love me, Stella?” the words came so quietly, the woman wasn’t even sure she heard them at first over the roar of the hockey crowd. She sat down much sooner than her fellow fans had, turning to look at Scott with wide eyes. Stella’s brows furrowed, was he really bringing this up now? Save for work and other plans that had been made prior to his return home, the couple had been with each other every waking moment and it wasn’t until the Winter Classic -- a gift Stella’s father had given her tickets for Christmas every year -- that Scott had brought up doubts on her feelings. It was true that Stella still had yet to answer his proposal and while it hadn’t brought up in a few days, she knew it was still stewing in the back of his mind.

“What?” was all she could muster, adjusting the scarf against her neck. Scott repeated the question -- accusation -- against, with more urgency to his tone. “How could you even- why would you even think that? Of course I do! Is this because I haven’t given you an answer yet? Scott, this is a huge decision. If you had asked me, oh I don’t know, four years ago, I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. I don’t want to give you an answer and not have everything thought out. We’re not talking about this here.” she turned away from him, raising her voice enough to shout something towards one of the players.

They were silent as the game continued, Stella’s cheers and jeers the only noise coming between the two. Scott watched his girlfriend more than the action happening on the ice rink they built over the field at Nationals Park, giving the woman looks of admiration at her dedication to the sport that he still had no idea what it was about. They were both baseball fans, that was one of the things that they discovered they had in common and hockey went over his head. Still, every year he was home for the New Year’s holiday, he joined her at the Winter Classic. He took her cues and rooted for the Capitals (she wouldn’t have it any other way) and booed when the other team would score. He supported his woman the best he could when he was home and he knew, even for how long he would be gone, she had done the same for him. But now, he had the right to want his woman with him (world peace permitting). So Scott waited. He waited until his leave was approved to come home. He waited for the perfect moment to propose, he waited for her to say yes. He would admit that his proposal was on impulse, the jealousy from not being told about this new person in Stella’s life the catalyst for his actions. It was Stella’s (dare he say it?) infidelity that made it come much sooner than the planned day. The planned time.

Scott was pulled out of his reverie as the Kiss Cam music came on overhead and the jumbotron screens showed couples kissing as the camera panned to them. It was when the camera panned over towards them that he decided to act again. He held onto the ring for when he would finally get his answer and now was the time to find out how Stella really felt. He took one hand and turned her face towards his to kiss her (it was getting harder to keep her attention the longer the game went on) and with the other, he rifled in his pocket. Stella’s eyes shifted to where Scott’s hand was going and shook her head. Another quick glance told her the camera was still focused on them. Stella mouthed ‘no’ as Scott produced the ring from his coat pocket, taking the glove off of her left hand.

“Stella Maddon, please, I can’t think of anybody else that I would love to spend the rest of my life with. Will you please, marry me?” he was begging, pleading with her to give him an answer. She didn’t blame him for taking advantage of the moment, she couldn’t, it was the perfect timing. Instead of answering him, Stella stood, reaching for the beer she had yet to drink and poured it over his head.

“We’re going to talk about this at home. I’ll meet you at the car.” she returned the cup back to it’s holder before moving past him and exiting the aisle.

iv.

It had become quite clear that as Scott's departure date drew near,  Stella was slowly becoming unhinged. She had taken an extended leave of absence at the station in order to spend as much time as possible with him, almost as if she were afraid he would leave while she was at work. Stella had been crying much more than she had done in the past and all Scott could do was hold her and assure her that everything was going to be okay until she either fell asleep or had calmed down enough that they could move on with their day. It worked out in their favor, their dwindling days rekindling their relationship and strange enough, it seemed to make them happier.

They had been laying in bed for God knows how long, long enough that they had ran out of things to talk about. It was the first time in days that Stella hadn’t looked at Scott with the devastated look on her face and started sobbing. It seemed as if his constant reassurance of him coming home in one piece was finally working and the sight of the brunette resting peacefully against him was one for sore eyes. He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her lightly. Stella looked up at him, a soft smile on her face, sitting up and looking right at him.

“I don’t want to wait.” she told him, adjusting the ring on her finger. “I know I’ve been a complete wreck the past few days but let’s do this. Let’s get married. I don’t want to think that if something happens to you that my indecisiveness kept us back.” Stella cupped her face with her hands, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheeks. “I want to do this.”

“You’re sure? Just two months ago you were in the middle of having a thing for your escort friend.” Stella nodded, climbing out of the bed. “You’re really going to go into the courthouse in your Capitals jersey?” Scott followed her lead, pulling his jeans back on as he watched Stella run a brush through her hair. “God, I love you.” He pulled her to him and kissed her before leading her out the door of their apartment.

It took four hours, fifty-seven minutes and thirty-two seconds before they were seen by the judge and another fifteen minutes before they were officially married in front of a handful of strangers looking to do the same thing. Scott held Stella close, leaning to whisper in her ear once they were done.

“Love you, Maddon,” he told her, kissing the side of her head. “While I’m overseas and only then are you allowed to be romantically involved with the escort. The minute I set foot back on the continental United States, you’re mine. Got it?” this was met with a nod.

“Then you better get back in one piece.”

[atcmicorgasms]

An Eye For An Eye

Who→ Viola, mentions of Ophelia What→ the reason behind her motivation Warnings→ murder, death, killing, uhh everything in that line of thought.

It was too late for Viola to do anything to help her sister. Ophelia had perhaps gotten in too deep, willing to do anything to impress their leader. Viola stood by her sister in her descent into madness, trying to talk her out of the ideas that seemed outright ludicrous to even consider. They knew that a detective was on their tail, trying to pinpoint the person or persons sick enough to portray loving scenes with their victims bodies. It was clear though, after they had been given a name and a trait that the Dollhouse Killers were a title that Ophelia would’ve worn openly if she wouldn’t have been arrested on the spot for it.

Viola enjoyed watching the life drain from someone’s eyes as much as the next person but even she had her limits. She had wondered if Ophelia was feeling displaced again, having to compete with Viola, having to prove that she was the one who wanted to be there and not be in Viola’s shadow. Ophelia would keep Viola up late, dissecting a plan to get back at the detectives who had nearly caught them a few weeks before. Going after their family was always the plan. They made a plan as to who would be their victim. Viola resisted taking charge like she always did when it came to Ophelia’s life, nodding in agreement and only giving her answers when requested. It had been some time since Viola saw the way Ophelia’s eyes light up the way they did when she was telling her about the plan she came up with. She wanted to see it through, to see Ophelia with the same joy she used to radiate whenever it came to something she was passionate about. Viola only wanted Ophelia to be happy.

She didn’t want the descent into madness to take the wrong life. Viola only caught wind of it through one of the others in the home after she was unable to find Ophelia. Their cover be damned, Viola needed to remind Ophelia of what her goal was. Of what the real feeling of elation she felt when a body went limp before the rigor mortis set in. Not of some personal vendetta that would keep the detective on their asses. If anything, they were supposed to scare her away. Viola was too late to stop her sister from deviating.

Viola saw the red of the wig Ophelia wore on the ground, just before the entrance to an alleyway. She slowed in her running, hearing an unfamiliar voice speaking to her sister.

“Just let-let her go!” the detective’s voice wavered. Viola knew that if she had to make a choice between losing her sister and killing the detective, the detective would have to go. Viola didn’t have much time, backup had to be on the way and if she wanted them to survive another day she had to be quick and improvise.

Snatching the wig off the ground, Viola made her move towards the alley, steps as silent as she could allow it. Before she could make a move, Viola heard the gun go off, followed by the panicked footsteps. The blonde peered around the corner and saw the detective standing over two bodies: Ophelia’s victim of choice -- the detective’s teenage sister, who seemed to be in a state of shock -- and Ophelia. She heard the panic in the detective’s voice as she called it in, the end of the standoff, the hopeful end of a string of murders, the location. Viola pulled back, pressing herself against the wall and turned away.

A crowd was beginning to gather and Viola shoved the wig into her shirt before slowly falling back into the crowd, the fresh shock on her features helped her to blend in as she listened to the gatherers share what they’ve been able to find out. It was only a matter of time before they ran their tests, learned that Ophelia had a twin, before Ophelia would be the only soul to blame. It was easier to say the monster behind murders such as these was working alone, it put the people at ease knowing that this person answered for their crimes and that a second one was running around free.

Viola took one last look at the scene before her, Ophelia’s body covered in a blanket, the teenager being held tightly by her family and crime scene tape blocking the crowd off. If there was one thing Viola could do when she disappeared it would be to live a lie, to pretend that the news of her sister’s activities were not known. She would go home and begin her plans to avenge her sister.

An eye for an eye.

Her phone rang some time later, disturbing Viola from the frantic pacing she was doing. She stopped, stared at the device before reaching to answer the unknown number. “Ms. Macintosh? This is Detective Sanders, we’d like you to come in regarding your sister.”

[audrinlee-blog]

"In case your night wasn't busy enough," a note read, attached to a carton of ice cream.

Clad in her usual battle gear for a night out, Audrin stepped out of her apartment… only to nearly trip. With a slight frown, she looked down in question of her lack of grace and her answer came in the form of an ice cream carton. She blinked at the carton then scanned the hallway; she found no immediate signs of anyone having just passed by.

Hesitantly, she picked up the ice cream — the amount of coolness it still had surprising her. “In case your night wasn’t busy enough,” Audrin read the note quietly to herself, amused by the gesture and even more by the way her lips curled the slightest at the corners. Catching herself, she quickly looked up and around once more — though the chances of anyone witnessing that were slim — before weighing the ice cream in her hand.

After an earlier spat — how trivial it was, however, was countered and redefined with the amount of vodka she’d doused her earlier ice cream — that turned her day, Audrin had made plans for the night looking for a pick me up. The ice cream in one hand, her phone in the other to send out a text, and a smile still on, she headed back into her apartment. She’d make a mental note to thank — if possible — her mysterious ice cream man properly for turning her mood around. Audrin decided staying in for the night wouldn’t be so bad; her night would be just busy enough.