agent dufont

citizen-zero:

tbh I’d love a horror-comedy about a retail worker accidentally becoming a ghost/demon hunter because they’re just so unfazed by difficult and weird and bellicose customers that evil entities aren’t much more of a challenge.

“sir or ma'am or neuter, I’m going to have to ask you to stop crawling on the ceiling, you’re disturbing the other residents”

“please leave this place before I call the exorcist to remove you from the premises”

“company policy forbids me from accepting power from customers in exchange for my soul or firstborn child”

“sir, if you keep speaking to me like that, I’m going to have to end this spirit board conversation. have a good day, goodbye”

             “LONDON IS ALWAYS SO COLD. I don’t know how anyone tolerates it. Ah, well.”    His hum is slight on his lips: a delighted, soft sound as he worked. The small flashdrive in-between his fingers was freshly ripped from the port. The screen shortly blinked black, devastatingly dead at a few quick commands. A simple tap here, a click there. He pocketed the drive & offered her a quick shrug. A little smile.

       To call this a coincidence would be to lie. None of this was by chance. Not here, alone, cold & corporate. Mechanical eyes everywhere, but for now, he’d manipulated them all. Raoul’s white duster hangs relaxed off his shoulders , offset by black wedges ; other designer things, variants on soft cream. Every step was an approaching death. 

      Just a glance from him feels heavy. A weight to crush bone. He wasn’t a man many got to know, let alone so intimately. That, simply, would kill    ( ——— You’ve wandered too close near the wolf’s cage. You’ve put your fingers through the bars . I’ll let you know how you taste ) .    & he had maimed, killed many. Stared at her through borrowed eyes. Almost like his eyes , almost like his hair. Almost. But he’d grown far too wild & feral. 

     The man raised a hand, slowly, to the pointed curve of Emma’s jaw.    “Curious. Heh. Emma Dufont. I just thought we should meet sooner rather than later. Got a bit … tired of gazing at your camera feeds. You’re not very exciting, you know.”    Under his touch, her pulse thrums . It runs like prey, carrying precious blood through her veins. He turns her head gently left , then right. Locks of crimson hair fall. Raoul, his smile empty & suddenly hungry, mimicked the motion with a tilt of his head.    “Just about anyone’s easy to look up these days, as I’m sure you know. Makes my job a lot … easier.”    Raoul is gentle with her. He figures that what he should do, anyway. Drawing near, quietly as a grave, he presses a soft kiss just above her brows. It isn’t mean, but horrifically gentle. No mocking laughter. A calm this man seemed to have practiced & cultivated amongst his severity. Silent. Silent, he remains, for a few moments after, his hand still upon her. Flesh to flesh. A finger on her pulse. But it would be easy to eat you. I could place you between my teeth, bite down & shatter you. Sink my claws into your skin. You couldn’t run back home, then. 

on a father's rage