Send a symbol, and my muse will tell you about their favorite:
🎊 - Holiday
Scott took a moment, expression furrowing as he thought it over. Holidays weren’t something he celebrated much anymore--there were some he avoided and feared.
Halloween for example.
But his favorite? That was a tough one..
“P-Probably Christmas..”
📖 - Story
“I-I don’t think I know enough stories to pick a f-f-favorite..I used to read c-comics more than anything e-else when I was uh. When I was y-younger but..I don’t much uh. M-Much do that anymore..”
Royal was tracing along the edge of his partner’s mask, checking that it was fit tight to the man’s face. “Doors should all be sealed except ours. Good crowd…” The younger grinned, his own mask still pulled aside as he made sure Ryan was set. Fingers trailed down an arm, hooking with his lover’s for a moment as he leaned close. His lips came close to the mouth of Ryan’s mask, eyes hooding. “I’ll warm them up, then you make your entrance. I’ll watch. Once you pick one, I’ll make sure everyone sees.”
There might’ve been a growl, a hand trying to fist the material of his jacket, but Royal slipped away as easily as he pulled his mask into place. Though they had grown accustomed to playing this game together this sort of play, this stage was one he had more practice with.
He’d been watching this club, visiting without pattern, sticking to the backgrounds while he learned their routines and planned their show. They’d take on this scene cold, and Royal had confidence that it’d be one of the best opening nights anyone in this town had ever seen.
Security was surprisingly easy to slip by when you were alone. Royal knew the usual DJ was away from his board, and he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket to let himself into the booth. Figures a nice place like this would have more barriers between its performers and the crowd rather than bodies, but boy were they still easy to break through when you knew what you were doing.
Closing himself into the booth Royal checked the equipment first, pulling a USB drive out of his back pocket to insert it into abandoned laptop. It was being used as the main control point, and it looked like the owner had failed to lock the device. Not that it would have stopped Royal, but it was one less thing he had to struggle with. Noting the pre-recorded routine that was running to keep the crowd happy, the young man let it continue while he got himself set up. He hadn’t brought any of his personal equipment minus what was on the drive, but he didn’t need it.
Everything’s here.
The music faded off and the lights dimmed. The crowd noticed, the energy and movement ceasing as everyone looked about for a cause of the stop. A handful turned their attention to the DJ’s booth, but Royal had purposefully made sure all the spotlights on him were off. It made so only his eyes were visible in the darkness.
“Heeeeey everyone.” Royal had pulled his mask aside so his mouth was uncovered, but when he spoke into the mic his voice came through the speakers with a noticeable electronic overlay. “It’s time to turn it up in here. We’re going to get dangerous and no one’s going to stop us. Ready?” The majority responded in favor, cheering and clapping, apparently welcoming this shift in atmosphere. Royal started his music, letting it build as he watched the crowd.
He could see Ryan out there, ignored now that everyone’s attention was on him.
The beat built, the crowd followed it, and Royal laughed. “Follow me now kiddos.”
When the beat dropped and the crowd was hit with bass and rhythm the lights came up. Even blinded they were eager to get back to their fun, but there was a new energy about them. Not to mention they were synchronized, focused on the Royal’s lead and following his music and his voice when he started to sing.
This song would build them up to the real show, to when they’d cover this place in red.
Ryan was being given his chance to scan the crowd; despite the flashing lights and constant movement of bodies he’d find one, and though he wouldn’t dive in until those bodies were still again Royal would be ready when his partner was. These people, they were easily hypnotized and led, shouting a chorus when it was asked for, jumping when it was commanded, and soon Royal would have them screaming.
Before that he had to bring the volume down again. He swallowed, throat raw as he pulled his mask into place again, brining the noise level of the club lower, lower, and turned any light he could towards himself to flood the booth. It drew the crowd this time, all of them, and they even went quiet as they were silently prompted to.
Royal expected that, even without his mask, his features would be blurred by all of the spotlights he’d shown on himself. He was baking fast under them, but he had to stand there and wait for Ryan’s signal to start the real fun. The younger could make out the man parting the crowd easily, still wholly unnoticed as he moved towards the center of it all. His partner came to his victim, the knife was lifted as the other’s mask lit up, and Royal grinned.
The speakers thrummed again, the rhythm of a heartbeat as Royal turned the lights on him off and showed a spotlight on Ryan. No color, no call through the mic to focus, just a redirection with the plain white light. His captive audience reacted exactly how he wanted. They moved away from the older man and his victim, creating a circle around him as the backed out of the light and took in the sight. A masked man with grin alight holding up one of the club patrons. They were facing each other, Ryan and his victim, so the scene might have looked innocent—
If it weren’t for the way Ryan jerked back his hand before the body of the man dropped to the floor. Blood had washed wet over Ryan’s hand, shining on the blade of his weapon when he lifted it to show it off. Royal would swear he could feel the ripple of shock and horror wash through the room as the same gore oozed across the floor beneath the body.
“Get a good look ladies and gentlemen.” Royal said with a chuckle as the music started to pick up its pace. He saw in the crowd people shifting, not to run, but revealing masks of their own.
That radical following they’d gotten. Ryan tended to leave clues for them to find their shows, inviting them to join in.
“Welcome to a waking nightmare. We’ll be your guides to hell.”
The lights dropped, a beat, a scream, then everything started flashing in quick succession as Royal cranked the volume up on the music again. Bass heavy again, and he programed the lights to follow the beat while chaos erupted below. The rush of movement, people screaming and sprays of fresh blood only helping to drive the panic. No one could tell where safety was, or find the face, the source of the sudden danger.
Royal was satisfied with his work, retrieving his drive and pocketing it again before he headed down to join the real show. He’d find Ryan first, see if his lover was satisfied with their work so far before he searched for some personal pleasure. His knife was drawn as he left the booth, though he had no intention of using it yet. The hall leading out to the dance floor had a few stragglers, masked, already bent over victims they were robbing of their life. Royal passed by them without a second glance, unconcerned about being targeted himself. They were all the same, after all. They were all masked.
Ryan wasn’t trying to hide. He was hanging out at the bar, cleaning his knife as he watched the madness they’d unleashed. Much like how Royal went ignored, no one paid the older man any mind, locked in their own world of horror or pleasure.
Someone was unfortunate enough to cross Royal’s path as he moved towards his partner, grabbing the front of his shirt and trying to stop him. Without missing a beat long fingers wrapped around the thin man’s neck, resting the flat of his blade against the side of his face so the tip was visible just at the corner of the other’s eye.
“Back up.” He breathed, guiding them both the rest of the way Ryan. The older seemed to content to sit where he was, watching Royal bend the man back over the bar at an uncomfortable angle before he reached out to restrain a flailing arm. With the victim’s back pressed to the counter Royal was able to turn his head with the flat of his weapon, making him look at Ryan. “Keep turned like that…juuuust like that.”
The man was whimpering, then yelped when the sharp edge of the knife caught his cheek. It bleed, but it was barely a scratch compared to the next attack. Right into the soft tissue of the exposed belly, Royal jammed the knife with a grunt, using his free hand to keep the guy’s head turned while his body weight kept him still. The victim choked, then a wet cry broke passed his lips as Royal pulled the blade to open up his belly. With as deep as it was and the odd angle…he couldn’t quite pull the weapon the full way, but it was a decently sized opening, plenty big to spill a lot of blood and insides.
Ryan had taught him how to do that.
Weather it was the blood loss or drowning on the fluid itself, Royal wasn’t sure what would end the man’s life. What he did know was that he was holding him still, rolling with the jerking motions and the pain that wracked his body, his own eyes drifting over to see how Ryan would react.
Even masked he knew the older was enamored by the show. Only when he felt the victim growing still, the fight and life fading out, did Royal let him go. He jerked the body so it would roll off the counter and hit the ground like a wet sack, the dirty knife laid next to Ryan’s clean one as he stepped to stand in front of his partner.
Despite the blood the desire between them was warming them, making them forget inhibitions. Royal turned the other’s mask enough to reveal his mouth, and Ryan returned the favor as he dragged their bodies together. Their hips were pressed flush, Royal lifting a knee so the older could grind against it as they kissed wildly. Their masks might have gotten knocked more askew than they intended, but their faces were still obscured as they tasted passion and sweat, grabbing whatever they could of each other for this momentary meeting.
This show wasn’t over yet, but they’d both had their first kill and they were running hot.
“Listen I want to—”
“Not yet.” Royal had tried to pull away and Ryan pulled him back with a harsh whisper. His hands were rough. Fingers squeezed between the taller’s legs as he bit Royal’s lower lip until he tasted blood. The younger moaned loudly enough that his mouth had to be covered again, a hand tangled in his hair forcing him into another heated kiss.
Royal was hazy once he was finally released again, lips wet and parted as he breathed heavily, eyes closed. His partner snorted, patting a cheek until those eyes fluttered open again. “You were saying you wanted to do something little rabbit?”
“Uh…yeah, um, something—I wanted to get some more personal fun in.” The handle of his knife was tapped, then he carefully moved away from Ryan as he pulled his gloves tight. Fingers were flexed and he gave the other a lazy grin. “Gotta be a couple fighters in here. Never fails. It’ll give ya a chance to see if anyone else perks your interest before we leave.”
“Uh huh.” Ryan pulled his mask back into place as Royal did the same. “Remember our time limit.”
The younger nodded, stepping back and then turning to head back into the madness. The main room wasn’t as hectic as it had been when the scene had started, but there were still a number of the masked followers herding the more stubborn club patrons into corners. There were bodies strewn about, some still and others turning, gagging, and dying.
It was so satisfying to take in, and to know that they were the cause. Ryan took up his partner’s knife from the counter, slowly cleaning the blade as he’d done his own. His eyes were turned towards the main floor, but his mind had wandered elsewhere. Pleasure was flooding his every sense; even after Royal had stepped away he could still feel the warmth pressed against him, the blood on his lips and the intense rush from when he’d forced his knife into that first victim to start this event. It was more than enough to sate his bloodlust for the night, the power trip making up for the fact that they wouldn’t be taking someone home tonight for a more private show.
“Hey.”
Ryan sucked in a breath, tilting his head as he regarded this…kid in front of him. He hadn’t paid the guy any mind when he’d approached, but now he was in the way and talking to him. The older man sneered behind his mask, plucking up his own knife and putting it away before he acknowledged the other. “What do you want kid?”
“You’re the guy.” The brat’s voice was muffled by his poorly constructed mask, but there was an obvious sense of awe in it. “You’re…you know, the purple guy.”
One of the names their fanatics had come up with. Usually it was applied by all the followers who kept to a single-killer theory. Despite the amusement these peoples’ worship of his and Royal’s work was Ryan wasn’t sure if he liked this one correctly identifying him as one of the actual killers. “I’m just a man in a mask. Answered a call just like you.”
“No I saw you! I saw you kill the guy first, and I saw your partner too. I always knew there was two of you! Everyone was always sooooo wrong and putting me down, but I knew. I’m better than them. Smarter.” The kid was holding a knife of his own, like something that looked like it’d come out of his parents’ kitchen, and Ryan noted some blood. Not a lot, but enough to suggest he’d cut into at least one victim. The other hand was tucked behind his back, and when it was brought forward—
He was holding Royal’s mask, showing it to Ryan.
Ryan almost lost his grip on the knife in his hand. Every thought, every idea was ripped from his mind, leaving it blank and empty for a few tense moments before he was flooded with what the implications of what this kid holding Royal’s mask meant. Since his own face was covered his expression didn’t give his shock away, so the other kept talking. “I took it from him.” He explained. “I knew it was my destiny. He never appreciates you, or what he has. I know I’m better than him, I’m the only one who was crazy enough to kill him.”
Fingers twitched. Ryan resisted the urge to slice this kid open then and there. Instead he tried to control himself, reaching out to take the mask from the other’s grasp, get those disgusting fingers off of it. The kid took his own mask off then—had to be early twenties, if that. Could’ve passed for nineteen even, what a joke. Full of piercings, thick eye liner, color streaked hair; apparently the guy had gone the full nine yards to make himself look unique, edgy, and like an ideal outcast. Because that was completely original. Lift any mask of these followers and you’d probably find the same image.
“He’s over there.” The brat motioned towards the floor, out amongst the bodies. “You should see what I did.” The knife the kid was holding was lifted as he grinned. He looked like he was trying too hard to look crazy. It might’ve been an image he could sell if there was more blood on the blade, but there wasn’t so it only served to piss Ryan off even more. “I stabbed him over and over again. This is my backup blade because I came ready to kill everyone! I let it taste his flesh too after I left my other one in him.” And then he actually licked some of the blood.
Ryan…really wanted to kill this kid. He’d be doing the world a favor, really, but Royal took priority. Not to mention he needed revenge. There was no way his partner was dead, no way Edgy McEdgerson here had actually finished Royal off. “Go see! Hurry! I already called the police when this started, so they should be here soon. We don’t want to be here—”
“You what?”
“Called. The. Cops. I know you already had an escape, but we need to get all these other posers caught. Don’t you see the way they are after you let them participate? Full of themselves, thinking they’re special. But you, you’re the one who’s special right? No, we’re the ones who matter.”
He was brushing passed the kid now, teeth clenched. Ryan paused once, fingers clenched tight around Royal’s belongings. The knife and the mask…it would have been so easy to kill him now. “There’s a back door. It has a green stripe on it. Wait there.”
No doubt the kid would be waiting. Ryan’s thoughts were still a mess, but they were circling two major desires that kept, though conflicting, were keeping him calm. One was to rip that punk to shreds for even thinking he was worthy of…anything from him. The other was finding Royal. He had to be alive, he had to be!
He looked like any other victim left for dead. Ryan couldn’t believe the kid had been telling the truth, but there were obvious wounds on his partner, clothes wet with blood very real when he got close. There was even a knife half sunk into the meat of his leg.
He was breathing.
Royal’s eyes were open, in fact, but he wasn’t trying to move. Hands were pressed to his abdomen, tremors obvious when he suppressed coughing as blood leaked passed his lips. “No…”
The younger shook his head, a small movement. Ryan kneeled by him, setting down the items in his hands so fingers could ghost around the handle of the weapon in Royal’s leg. “Fuck!”
“I-it’s okay.” Royal rasped. He shouldn’t have been talking, but he was trying to urge his lover to leave. “Paramedics. They’ll help me. It’s the only way.” His keys were shakily taken from a pocket while Ryan tried to cover some of the stab wounds, applying pressure until Royal hissed in pain. He wanted to stop the bleeding, had to make it stop—
“Here. Here.” The ring of keys were passed off. “The only evidence…linking me. Take it! They’ll think I’m a victim. Ryan g-go. They’re coming, they’ll…” Royal was struggling to breath, and every word hurt, but he needed to reassure Ryan. “Don’t let…that brat win. I won’t leave, not cause of him. Please t-trust me. Trust me.”
Even if Ryan didn’t want to leave the younger man there he knew…he knew he had to. He did have to trust Royal, believe that he was going to be okay. If he stayed he’d get caught, get them both caught, and then they’d be dead for sure. But Royal was right, he was going to be okay.
That’s what he told himself as he gently ran a thumb over Royal’s lower lip, at least, before he grabbed up the dropped knife and mask to retreat. His whole body shook when he turned away, rejecting the notion that Royal might die on him.
Royal watched him leave, whimpering as he pressed a hand against the worst of his wounds again. Bastard had waited until he was distracted, worn out from the fights he’d started with unmasked survivors. Then he’d attacked him from behind like a coward. He’d gotten lucky, probably nicked a lung, something that had left Royal incapacitated enough to get in additional hits. Not to mention he hadn’t had his own blade…fuck all for having trusted any of these fanatics though. If he did survive it would be a lesson learned.
When he survived. Even as his eyes closed and things started to hurt less he knew dying wasn’t an option. He’d told Ryan to trust him. He’d promised.
"Talk about us." [This is gonna be good I can feel it]
What they define their relationship with your muse as: “Enemies? I dunno man, he wants to fucking kill me and i’d love to never see him again.”
Something they like about your muse: “He’s handsome but that’s literally the only good thing about him.”
Something they dislike about your muse: “Everything. I dislike his entire existence.”
Their first impression of your muse: “This guys seems pretty nice.”
Their impression of your muse now: “He’s scary as hell and a horrible human being. Keep him the FUCK away from me.”
How they feel about your muse: “Scared. I hate him.”
Something they are hiding from your muse: “Nothing and everything at the same time. I don’t care what he knows about me as long as he doesn’t know where to find me.”
Something they wish they could to tell your muse: “I have nothing to say to him. Other than ‘fuck off’ and ‘I was only trying to help you, dickweed.”
[Ryan and Scott ofc and number 17. “I didn’t know you could sing.”]
It had started off quiet, the lyrics mumbled under his breath as he worked on his paperwork, the Office far too quiet for his tastes as the Day shift wound down and workers began heading home after clean up was finished.
Foot tapped against the tile floor beneath him, the chair squeaking as his body shifted with the action.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The imagined music was played out with his dress shoe, right foot keeping rhythm to Billy Joel’s quick pace.
“You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowdWe ain’t too pretty–we ain’t too proudWe might be laughing a bit too loudBut that never hurt no one”
Hand came down to drum against the desk as he nodded his head along with the music in his head, the lyrics fresh in his mind from listening to the song just this morning on the radio whilst getting prepared for work. Of course..Scott’s voice wasn’t the best.
He’d never considered himself a singer. No..far from it. Never trained his voice. Never sang much either–always afraid of what attention it might bring.
“So, come on, Virginia, show me a signSend up a signal I’ll throw you the lineThe stained-glass curtain you’re hiding behindNever lets in the sun”
Okay Scott biiiiiiiiig finish.Head was tilt back, hand outstretched with him as he leant back in the chair, ignoring its groan of protest as his weigh shifted.
“Darling, only the good die young!”
From the doorway, Ryan watched his partner, amusement evident on the smirk stretching across his lips. He hadn’t known the Kid could sing. Never heard him do it.
He wasn’t half bad either. Not that he was like...star quality or anything. But it was nice to hear Scott so..unfiltered. Of course he hadn’t thought anyone was watching during his little concert but..it didn’t matter.
“I didn’t know you could sing.” He mused aloud, startling Scott out of his next line as cheeks warmed in embarrassment, straightening in the chair and clearing his throat quickly.
When had Ryan gotten there?
“I-I uh..I-I don’t usually..”
“You weren’t stuttering or anything either Kid. That’s amazing.” Hand came forward to rub against Scott’s shoulder, helping calm him from the startle. “Maybe you could sing a little something while I play sometime. Just the two of us. That was..that Billy Joel guy right?”
Scott smiled sheepishly, giving a slow nod in response, cheeks still decorated with a light flush, happy to hear the praise from the older male.
Royal could feel his heart pounding hard. His breath was coming in short bursts despite his efforts to keep them even and calm. He was carrying a small box tucked under one arm, a towel bunched up inside and a hand buried in it. There was a canvas bag hung on his arm as well, filled with an assortment of cartons and cans of milk of all things. Goat milk.
I hope Ryan isn’t home yet.
The box was tucked close as Royal let himself into the house, very cautious as he took his hand from the wrapped towel to let himself into their home. He kept the lights off, and he tried not to make too much noise as he moved to the kitchen. The box was handled gently, placed tenderly on the counter before he set to putting most of what was in the canvas bag in the fridge. A few things he left out: empty syringes, and some of the goat milk. Once everything seemed organized he pulled out his phone, checking a few pages he’d been reading nervously while he took deep, calming breaths.
Can’t believe they just left him out like that…I’m sure he’s hungry, but I’ve got to make sure I do this right.
A bowl was retrieved from a cabinet, the supplies left out packed into the small container before he picked up it and the box and retreated from the kitchen. He relocated to his workshop, where he kept the lights dimmed when he turned them on and noted the slight jump in heat. Thanks to leaving his door closed all day his workshop tended to get warmer than the rest of the house, though he left the door cracked open before he moved to sit in a comfortable chair.
The bowl and supplies were left on his desk and finally…finally he could tend to the box. The towel was carefully extracted and laid on his lap, ever so slowly unwound from its bundle. Within the folds was nestled a golden, fluffy rabbit kit. “Hey little guy.” Royal cooed softly. He was gentle as he stroked the kit’s head, rubbing around its head and resisting the temptation to lift him and kiss his folded ears. The baby seemed calm now, but when he’d found the little kit abandoned outside in his box it’d been a different story. Scared, cold, and probably hungry.
“Lets get ya fed huh? Got some good milk for you.” With one hand keeping the kit steady Royal turned his swivel chair to pop open the milk and pour some into a bowl. The rabbit seemed to stir under him, head perking up as he hummed low. “Yeah you’re hungry. Idiots left some wet hay in there, but you’re not old enough for it even if ya could eat it.” One of the syringes was plucked up, the end dipped into the milk and partially filled with the milk. He’d give the rabbit a little bit at a time and see what kind of appetite he had.
It was easy to slip the end of the syringe up into the side of the kit’s mouth, the animal seeming almost eager to suckle at the tip even before Royal tested how fast he had to depress the plunger to feed him. Despite the trauma of being abandoned, this kit was pressing on strong. He was still slow in feeding the milk, watching to make sure the young rabbit could eat it fast enough, even drawing the syringe away to be extra sure there wasn’t a chance of drowning on the fluid.
It was an adorable sight. He had the kit on his back, feeding him from the syringe little by little and marveling at how hungry he was. “Not to fast now little thing. The milk’s not going anywhere.” Even if the kit couldn’t understand Royal couldn’t help talking to him. He liked to think it was soothing…or maybe he just couldn’t help, but coo and fawn over the little thing.
“Oh goddammit.” Cass groaned and ran her hands over her face. “Ugh, I guess you’re pretty hot. But that in NO way makes up for everything else about you. Now I have to go shower because I feel disgusted with myself.”
