who are you , really ?

𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐑𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐄 [ . . . ] 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯.

[vanishinq-a2]

#𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙸𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙽𝚀 — independent & highly selective casper daniel reid, otherwise known as the ghost from a.e. duplessis' novel "how to disappear," documented by atlas (25+ any pronouns). please read all the rules before following ! closely affiliated with @audaciiae & @accustiv .

¹carrd , ²aesthetic sideblog , ³spotify , ⁴pinterest

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

hi, i remade.

[vanishinq-a2]

feeling kinda silly, kinda impulsive, kinda like i wanna

[vanishinq-a2]

okay yeah i'm remaking lmao 🥰

idk ig the partial reason is that i'm lowkey feeling a bit like a springboard of ideas for other ppl's muses and it's kinda sucking the life out of me lmao??? idk maybe it's my paranoia or smth sorry guys 🤧

[vanishinq-a2]

feeling kinda silly, kinda impulsive, kinda like i wanna

[vanishinq-a2]

happy munday babes

[vanishinq-a2]

sick as a fucking dog but apparently i'm looking great today according to my coworkers so i have that going for me ig

[audaciiaearchive]

"Well, yeah, but I was bored, like I said." Kit shrugs, sitting down on the bed next to him. The whims and desires of Kit Harris are something that can be hard to pin down at times. Besides, the excuse of 'well, I was bored,' is much easier to grapple than them admitting they were too eager to see him. The feelings they've been encountering regarding Alex were a pain to think about, so they'd rather not think about it at all.

Humming, they absently walk his fingers up his chest, grinning down at him. "Sorry, did I wake you up from your beauty sleep? You were off last night, weren't you? If you'd rather me leave..." Although they would complain about it if he did and make it a problem later, "you can just tell me to leave."

[vanishinq-a2]

my skin prickled with excitement as kit walked their long painted black fingers up my chest. i loved when they got like this. it was a rare sighting of kit harris at their most tender, showering me with a grin that wasn't laced with venom or a gentle touch without punctuation or ever drawing blood. in those early months of our relationship, i never once felt unsafe around kit. i wore the strangest rose-colored glasses. i was deeply infatuated with all the different skins they wore, recognizing that nobodies like myself usually received a rather unpredictable coat, one that was treacherous or otherwise extremely lethal. yet they displayed somebody different to me, somebody less breakneck and more protective that nobody else experienced.

in a way, kit was my protector through the latter half of my life as alex, however perilous that became later on.

i yawned, stretching large over my head until i exposed my chest. as my arms fell, i encircled kit into my grasp, locking my hands, and pulling them hard onto the bed beside me with a giggle. " um, excuse me, did i say you could leave? " i asked playfully. my voice sounded much more like alex then. our lips landed on each other, and as was customary, turned deeper within seconds. our tongues moved and danced in each other's mouths, our fingers tangled in each other's hair. i drew back a moment, my cheeks flushed and my breath panting with want. " love your makeup today, by the way, " i said, with a teasing grin. " god, i'd hate to ruin it. "

[accustiv]

“ he’s still looking for someone called alex. ” i admitted, “ no last name. ” it wasn’t much of a comfort, and i knew it, but i had to hold on to the fact that i hadn’t given bishop enough to even suspect that nicolas, the down and out bartender currently on bedrest in his house, was the man he’d been looking for for years. “ i may have… suggested a few things were the ghost that weren’t. ” mostly jobs i’d pulled alone, or ones i knew had been done by lucian’s crew. things that would feel out of line and confusing, things that would distract. i shrugged, voice low enough not to be heard through the door, even if our gracious host had his ear pressed flat against it. “ you know how many people claim to be him? ” i said, after a short pause, “ it’s wild, like the ghost is the anastasia romanoff of art crime. ”

i’d known, of course, that it was a mark of honour to claim you knew him, and i could usually pick out the people who had done business with casper - or, rather, eman or jack - by how little they talked about the ghost. part of me knew that was why hal had entertained the idea i knew him at all - i hadn’t been the one who claimed to be the ghost, that was the tipster, and before he’d told me about the call, i’d refused to say a single word about it - i knew i was on record, in my first interrogation, flat out refusing any knowledge of or association with the ghost. i felt the pang of guilt slam into my chest, i know i’d said too much, that i still gave him too much just by being there.

“ he’s not my boss, by the way. ” i said, changing the subject, my voice returning to regular conversational level, “ more like a… ” i paused, thinking about it, “ really fucked up parole officer. ” my fingers traced a pattern on the sheet that stretched down off the side of casper’s bed. “ he’s fine. better than the others. ” sliffe, for one, made my skin crawl. but casper wouldn’t have to meet him, ever if i had anything to do with it. “ i’m sorry - ” the word was dangerous, and i skipped over it as quickly as i could, “ - that you have to be here, but i promise, it’s the best i can do right now. ”

[vanishinq-a2]

" oh? " i paused a moment, ruminating on just how bishop obtained the name alex in the first place. a few subtle guesses and one disheartening conclusion later, i shook my head. " you know what? it's fine. alex is dead anyway. officially. i submitted his death certificate to the municipal court after tony fired me. i guess oxygen had some kind of memorial at the club about a week later. i saw the marquee for it. i don't know, it looked really stupid. "

that was another death i was learning to live with. i loved my life as alex. he was a rare gem from jack's early days, before her skill as surveillant surpassed even my own standards and she became international. alex, heartbreaker extraordinaire, party boy, and big brother to all the club girls, was how i met beau, and arjuna, and za'niyah, and ramsey, and isaac. everyone i considered important in my life, gone.

despite my remark, i almost wished i could've been at the memorial, and given myself some real closure. at the very least, said goodbye to my friends. as fortune would have it, the dead typically stay dead.

a raspy laugh escaped me at the ghost being the anastasia romanov of art crime, the comment easing my nerves a little - even with the coughing fit and tension headache that followed. though that surprised me; i only knew of one man who tried to be me, and he died in prison not long after the fbi dropped the accusation. for the record: that wasn't my doing. his death illustrated the state of my syndicate, and how much people were willing to kill and be killed to maintain its exclusivity.

" he's still a fed. " i rested back uncomfortably. " that's not necessarily fine, is it? " i knew i sounded bitter the second those words left my mouth, and i wanted nothing more than a bullet between my teeth. i was so annoying; why couldn't i just stop? " but … " i said, trying to nip the proverbial poison in the bud before beau thought i was angry with him for saving me, " it's better than being out there. i was really messed up for - well - a multitude of reasons. i mean— if you hadn't … " —found me, i would've died in there— " what i'm trying to say is: thanks for looking out for me, even after everything. "

[vanishinq-a2]

feeling weird and not very great abt casper and my writing and htd as a whole, so i present to you a performance piece called "screaming into my fucking hands" (2023), performed by me, and it goes like this