#aracniss

❛  you’re  acting  like  a  little  boy.  ❜

                   𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄  :    the  great  gatsby   /   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒  :    accepting  .ᐟ.ᐟ

perhaps  in  testament  to  his  brother’s  assertion ,     angel  nearly    𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬     with  rage  upon  hearing  those  words .    so  what  if  it’s  fuckin’  true .ᐣ.ᐣ   who  the  hell  is    𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑠     to  waltz  back  into  his  life  and  make    𝗝𝗨𝗗𝗚𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦     about  his  behavior .ᐣ.ᐣ     perhaps    𝐎𝐋𝐃  𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒     really  are  hard  to  kill ,     given  that  the  bulk  of  his dwindling  memories  of  his  human  life  play  an  endless  reel  of  the    𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆  𝒐𝒍𝒅  𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕  ;   his    “   perfect   ”     big  brother  constantly    on  his  case  ,     barking  and    BITCHING     at  him  to  get  his  act  together ,     to  stop  causing  him  and  their  mother    &     sister  so  much  grief .    heaven  fucking  forbid    their  father  found  out  about  some  of  his    𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬     [     .  .  .     ]     he’d  have  ended  up  in  a  coffin  far  earlier  than  he  actually  did .    𝑩𝑶𝑻𝑯  𝑶𝑭  𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑴  𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫  𝑯𝑨𝑽𝑬  ,     considering  that  somehow ,    𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒚     was  always    vince’s     responsibility .

               “     you’d  give  a  fuckin’    broken  record     a  run  for  its  money  ,     ”     he  grouses ,     words  nearly    hissed     through  a  clenched  jaw ,    “     wouldn’t  ya  ,     big  bro  .ᐣ.ᐣ     i  swear  ,     all  you  ever    𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏’  𝒅𝒐     is  look  down  on  me  .     ”    𝐼𝑅𝑂𝑁𝐼𝐶 ,   given  their  longstanding    𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞  𝐢𝐧  𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭  .     he’d  been  taller  than  his  big  brother  since  puberty  had  hit  him  like  a    𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚  𝗙𝗥𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧  𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡  ,     but  even  then ,     all  he’d  ever  wanted  was  his  approval ,     was  for  him  to    𝒔𝒂𝒚     that  he  didn’t  think  of  him  as  the    𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲  𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰  -  𝐮𝐩     that  their  father  had  always  insisted  he  was .     from  his  perspective ,     molly  and  their  mother  had  been  the    only  ones     always  in  anthony’s  corner ;     it  seemed  as  if  they  were  the  only  ones  who    𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃  ,     and  while  he  has  an  inkling  that    𝑖𝑠𝑛’𝑡  𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒  ,   given  that  his  brother  had    looked  out     for  his  stupid  ass  more  times  than  he  can  count ,     it  only  ever  seemed  like  anthony  was  just  a    BURDEN     to  him .

              an  angry  huff    𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒     from  him  like  a  cloud  of    cigar  smoke ,   and  though  he’d  always  been    𝒂𝒍𝒍  𝒉𝒊𝒔  𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓     where  his  looks  are  concerned  ,    anthony    𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙     can    feel     how  much  he  mirrors  his  father  in  that  split  second .     it  makes  him    𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊  .    “     how  ’bout  you  do  us  both  a    𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧’  𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫     and  butt  the  fuck  outta  my  business .ᐣ.ᐣ     me  makin’  bad  decisions  ain’t  nothin’  new  to  you  ,     an’  ya    KNOW     it  ain’t  gonna  change  .     ”   

               emotion    burns   at  the  base  of  his  throat ,     and  he  feels  the    𝘀𝘂𝗳𝗳𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴  𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲     in  his  eye  sockets  that  warns  him  that  he’ll    𝗖𝗥𝗬     if  he  keeps  going .    oh  well .   maybe  he  really  is  acting  like  a    𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄  𝐁𝐎𝐘  ,     but  how  much  time  had  he  actually  gotten  to    be  one     in  life .ᐣ.ᐣ   

               “     take  a  look  aroun’  ,     vinny  ,     ”     angel  utters  wetly ,     voice  cracking  in  his  frustration ,     in  his  hurt ,     in  his    ache  to  be  consoled .    “    𝑾𝑬’𝑹𝑬  𝑰𝑵  𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑳  .     we  been  judged  to  the  highest  fuckin’  degree  .     what  good’s  it  gonna  do  if  y’  bring  all  that  shit  from    up  there     down  here  .ᐣ.ᐣ     ”     drawing  in  a  deep  breath ,     he  tries  to    STEEL  HIMSELF ,   pinching  the  ends  of  his  nerves  before  they  can  explode .    “     you  ain’t  got    𝒏𝒐  𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚     for  me  anymore  ,   okay  .ᐣ.ᐣ     you  don’  like  how  i  live  .ᐣ.ᐣ     you  don’  like  what  i  do  .ᐣ.ᐣ    THEN JUST LEAVE ME ALONE .ᐟ.ᐟ     ”

You know better, babe Than to smile at me like that. You know better, babe Than to hold me just like that. I know who I am when I'm alone I'm something else when I see you.

A beautiful commission of Cosette & Alastor ( @hellhosted ) cozying up on date night, no doubt taking a well-deserved(?) break from the hustle 'n bustle of feral-grown children and Hotel work.

Crimson stirred, and then gasped. Staring at him from above the bed was a dark face with multiple eyes. The aging imp pressed himself against the pillows that were propping him up, claws digging into the sheets.

Arackniss. That runaway he'd hired as a bodyguard. What was he doing in his room?

Crimson opened his mouth even before he knew what he was going to say, and reached for a gun that was not there with one hand. Then he shut his mouth.

He was disarmed, but not dead.

Now he remembered.

"What happened?" the man still found himself blurting, ever stubborn as he tried to get up— only for a searing jolt of pain to zap through his right leg and send him flopping back down.

"I know I got shot," he tacked on, teeth gritted, "But after I got outta there..."

He must've passed out. Embarrassing. More embarrassing that they hadn't just killed him— he knew there were plenty of folks after his title. It would've been easy.

What, had they taken pity on him cause he was an old man?

the  streets  run  rampant  with  the  blood  of  sinners,  and  arackniss  hates  the  color  of  sir  pentious’. he  hopes  he’s  never  put  pen  through  this,  in  the  countless  deaths  he’s  suffered  at  hell’s  hands.  he  hopes  pentious  has  never  seen  arackniss’  body,  cold  and  frail  under  smoldering  rubble.  he  hopes  he’s  never  had  to  wrench  him  out  of  the  wreckage,  scrabbling  and  clawing  until  his  hands  were  torn  and  bloody.  he  hopes  he’s  never  had  to  pick  up  pieces  for  him  in  the  wounded  fog  arackniss  now  finds  himself  in. he  delivers  pentious’  body  home.  sponges  off  any  blood  and  dirt.  tucks  him  into  bed.  locks  the  door  to  stave  off  any  overly-curious  eggs.  he  revisits  the  scene  and  reclaims  anything  too  important  to  abandon.  he  makes  all  the  eggs  dinner  and  picks  at  his  own,  unable  to  eat  on  a  churning  stomach,  and  he  makes  the  dreaded  phone  call  to  his  father. someone  died.  he  needs  time. the  ensuing  shouting  match  riles  up  the  eggs,  and  he  calms  them  down  with  a  movie  before  bed.  he  reassures  them  when  they  ask  why  they’re  sleeping  in  the  guest  room  tonight  (  boss’s  sick.  we  don’t  sleep  with  people  when  they’re  sick  )  and  doesn’t  cry  when  their  small,  warm  bodies  crowd  him  in  the  bed. he  doesn’t  cry  at  all  the  whole  week.  isn’t  that  something  to  be  proud  of,  pen? by  the  time  he  hears  stirring  in  the  main  bedroom,  it’s  been  too  long.  arackniss  is  exhausted.  he  hasn’t  eaten  much,  and  he’s  slept  even  less,  and  he’s  still  been  running  errands  for  pops  between  spells  at  the  house,  babysitting  an  army  of  eggs.  but  still,  he  runs  at  the  sound,  crashing  through  the  door  before  pentious  has  time  to  know  he’s  there. “  fucking  christ  !”  he  barks,  because  that’s  the  first  thing  that  comes  to  his  lips  -  it  had  to  fight  past  all  the  I  love  you’s  and  other  sweet  words  to  get  there.  “jesus,  penny,  it’s  okay!” storming  the  bed,  he  tugs  Pentious’  head  into  his  lap,  shaking  hands  running  gingerly  over  his  hood.  he  doesn’t  want  to  hurt  him,  but  he  needs  to  calm  him  down  -  desperately,  he  plants  a  kiss  to  the  top  of  pentious’  head,  then  another  to  his  cheek,  rocking  the  two  of  them  ever  so  gently. “you’re  back.  you’re  back,  baby,  you’re  breathing.  please  come  back  to  me  …  “

At some point Pentious recognises that his nightmare is over, but his body needs more reassurance, still fueled by suddenly released adrenaline. Arackniss' voice sounds distant and drowns within his own guttural pleas and heavy breaths. But Pentious recognises that he is there, so close to him, there to save him.

"Nisssss," he sobs, wildly trembling claws searching for any surface of the other Sinner. He needs to touch him, he needs to hold onto him. Arackniss is his only lifeline, only he can pull him back from his curse.

A black stain running down his chin and chest and tasting foul in his mouth is evidence of his body having released the death from his body in the form of still, ashened and infected blood and other bodily liquids. He shudders and sobs all over again, not only from panic, but from embarrassment. How severely, how disgustingly must he have soiled himself in the wake or his demise? In what pitiful state did his lover have to see him? The turf ambush someone begun out of nowhere, they hadn't had time to prepare, how much area had they lost because Pentious went and blew up?

"The- the engines, s-sssss-someone launched a missile, I- I dinnut- I didn't notice, I was so sssstupid" he sobs, so ashamed of himself that his nausea returns.

"What? Oh, I'm sorry, I'M tha' INSANE ONE for not creamin' myself at bein' serenaded by a plastic canary wit' a spring shoved up it's ass--"

@aracniss